*sigh*
Really being up and awake was NOT my idea. Not at all but a little after four am I heard my husband call to me, telling me there was a problem. Looking at the clock, I knew it was bad because obviously no sane person tackles the little stuff at four am.
He'd walked through puke in the bathroom. Oh my. It was terrible. The entire toilet, inside and outside. The floor next to the toilet. The walls behind the toilet. The vanity next to the toilet.
We had no idea who had done this. The child that is sick was a mystery but we didn't jump to find out, we went through the problem of cleaning first. I frankly couldn't do it. I let Kent know that if he took care of the bulky stuff, I'd do the fine cleaning. So we did that. While Kent was doing his thing, I went to check out the child on the couch.
Now out of five, it was easy to narrow the suspects down. Obviously it wasn't one of the twins, they'd cry, be upset and frankly the volume and coverage was more then I'd credit one of the little boys with. It wasn't Jane, Jane would have not only woken us up but been a better shot. We were sure it was Ean. He's our wild card and he doesn't always wake us up when he sick.
Wrong wrong wrong.
It was Kate on the couch. I woke her up and she started to cry, said she puked in her bed and thought it terribly unfair when I made her go get her sheets. At this point Kent gets more gloves (thank heavens for disposable gloves!) so he can load the washer. I'm working on detailing the bathroom. To say it was unpleasant is a vast understatement.
I hear a yell, Kent's discovered MORE surprises all up the stairs.
Kate's in tears. The children have a primary activity in the morning and she's just been told she doesn't get to go. As kindly as we tried to be "Honey, you've thrown up three times, you need to be home", her crushing disappointment comes out in frustration towards us. I know it's hard for her to understand, especially since she probably feels much better after getting sick but there's no way we'd risk exposure or vomit on the rest of the primary.
*more sighing*
Okay, the stairs, I have to stop what I'm doing, deglove, mix more carpet cleaner up and throw in a heavy dose of odor neutralizer for good measure and reglove for more bathroom cleanup.
I do the unthinkable at this point. I take my toilet bowl cleaner, which is more like a little mop then a traditional toilet bowl brush and proceed with LOTS of cleaner to scrub the outside of the toilet. Pretty much every square inch from the tank down. This of course is followed by the cleaning inside the toilet. The follow up is a steady spray of bleach over the whole fixture and a final wipe down.
I had already bleached the vanity, the walls and a bunch of the floor during cleanup. I also made the executive decision to sacrifice some of my old prefolds, now reduced to cleaning rags for the whole job and I threw them out with no desire to add more wash to the linens already lined up for the next load.
I know, I know, how wasteful but when you're feeling queasy from bleach fumes and nasty cleanup, shortcuts are bound to happen.
So Kate is now asleep on the couch. Kent's attempting to go back to sleep and here I am, writing this down for posterity. I'm sure my descendants will appreciate knowing this one.
