Warning:
This post contains graphic content that may not be suitable for the weak of heart...I mean, stomach.
We are all enjoying our holiday break. Plans were finalized for various friends play dates to occur today.
I had my "to do" list and up until yesterday was ignoring my greatest nemesis on the list....the shamefully overly gross oven. It was bad. So bad that the fire alarm went off every time I used it and opened the door.
Yes....I have a self cleaning oven. However, much elbow muscle was needed to prepare the oven, lest I burn the house down. At least I knew that the smoke alarms were in working order. The three oven racks also have to be removed and cleaned separately. Off they went to soak.
I managed to bake some bars before I began the clean cycle.
At least I knew if the oven blew up, we'd have chocolate to eat.
While the oven manual warns of smells particularly for the 4 hour "heavy" cycle, this is my least favourite part. One child commented something of the same. Sorry dear, I replied, this just couldn't wait until spring, when we could open EVERY window. We did slightly open one window which helped some.
After lunch I noticed a few "lounging" children, and began to start thinking of jobs to assign should they not begin to find a purpose for their life. Then the thought crossed my mind..."Not only am I delinquent in the household task of oven cleaning, could I actually be causing toxic poisoning of my children? Maybe I should go google that. What a rotten mother I am."
I promptly kicked a few children outside for some fresh air, in which time I was able to complete cleaning the oven racks to a "nearly new" shine. Or close enough.
Upon noticing the time, I realized it was getting close to 3pm when I needed to pick up Jacob from work (at the library). On my way out the door, I passed a decidedly green child.
"Mom, I threw up outside."
I assured the lad that perhaps it was just the fumes bothering him, told him to go to the couch and that I'd deal with it all once I got home.
I was wrong.
Quite wrong.
He continued to loss his stomach contents.
Enter the four year old.
He promptly made a place for himself on the another couch with pillows and blankets, claiming gross ills behind the smirk on his face. This was followed by intermittent dancing and playing.
Enter the eight year old.
He just returned from playing at the neighbours and while unaware of the goings-on from the older brother also moaned of "soreness." and staked his claim on the remaining piece of furniture in the lounge.
I was still refusing to believe that I had an epidemic on my hands, but gave him a bucket just in case.
During supper preparations, my senses were heightened to any cough or sputter noise coming from the lounge. This was a good thing when I noticed the eight year old begin to vomit on the floor, with the bowl in his hand. Good one.
"In the bucket!!!"
Load of laundry number one.
The biggest Valk wondered around with a disgusted look on his face....actually it was more a look of denial (with a hand resting gingerly on his abdomen).
The dad arrives home, and supper is ready.
I wondered why I choose to make green beans, and an egg/sausage casserole that while tastes great, didn't look that appetizing under the circumstances.
The two oldest slowly made their way to eat. The twin of the first fallen child was putting on a brave face since he was really looking forward to a planned outing with his mom, and the dancing child obeyed when his mom told him to try and eat something.
The plates were dished out as the rest of us tried to ignore the sounds coming from the lounge.
It was quickly becoming clear that most of the food on the plates would be ending up in the compost container.
This thought was solidified made clear when the dancing child lost his stomach contents all over his plate, his father and the surroundings counter/chairs.
Within seconds, a somewhat evil eye was directly to me.
"See mom, I TOLD you I was sick!"
My bad.
Load of laundry number two.
After explaining to twin 2, that it really wouldn't be nice to be wondering around Walmart and need to run to a bathroom, a place was made for him in the lounge with a bucket.
He soon "officially" raised the casualty count to four at Ward Valk.
The chief of staff was sent out for more supplies.
Number one on the list.....
Perhaps we could keep the fallen count to four.
Wrong again.
We are quite a light skinned family. I discovered that there are quite a few more shades of white then I thought possible.
The biggest man (dad) of the bunch is then discovered to be sitting by the fire in an upright fetal position, claiming the room temperature to be at least 10 degrees lower then actual. By 8pm he is in bed, seeming to have a different ailment altogether.
The chorus of stomach content withdrawal continues, at one point there is triple synchronized barfing. Nice.
The conclusion is it seems to be a 5-6 hour fast (and violent) bug.
And by 11pm, the five youngest Valks were tucked in bed. I discovered that the dancing four (nearly 5!) year old is quite heavy to carry to bed while sleeping. The baby has been "off" for a day or two with nasty diaper and perhaps started the whole thing!
The oldest two "held out" the longest and were the final victims, making me the last woman standing. They carried on into the wee hours of the morning.
The report today is lots of blobbing on the couch, movies, biscotties (rusks) and....
Speaking of which I think I might need to go out and pick up some more.
We are an efficient bunch and I'm thankful that it is mostly all passed (although Eric is back home from a half day's work and the bigger kids are not picking up as fast as the smaller ones), that the baby doesn't seem to be any worse, and that I was given the strength to care for ALL of the babies!
Now let's see if I can squeeze in a nap.
