I've been a little hesitant to type it in black and white, but I am confident that we have officially dodged a vomiting bullet.
The littlest one came into my bed (why not to Sarge's side of the bed? WHY?) and said his tummy didn't feel good. Not unusual for him. But I sat up and snuggled him a minute and he burped. I panicked - "Sarge, towel, I need towels! Immediately!
The littlest one said, "It's just a burp, Mommy." And proceeded to burp again. Towels were thrown from the bathroom. Just in time for dinner to be served all over me. Then lunch. Then breakfast. In that order. Thank goodness I couldn't really see much because it was dark and my contacts were not in, but I could feel one of the meals dripping down my leg.
Sarge stood there, frozen. I sat there, frozen. And then we started laundry. A LOT of laundry. The littlest one was fine the rest of the night as we slept on my bare mattress with blankets covering it. He was fine the next morning and all the next day.
But I wasn't. My stomach ached with anxiety. I was desperately washing things to get caught up; I was cleaning things so they wouldn't get thrown up on. I served bland meals to the family to not upset their stomachs (and so I wouldn't have anything too colorful to clean up) I was about to lose my mind waiting for the other two to throw up all over me - I'm always the catcher, always.
I got the kids so stressed about it, the next night, the oldest child tucked his precious mommy blanket under his bed so that in case he threw up it wouldn't get hit. We talked about what to do in case of stomach ache (the toilet, people, not your mother's pillow!).
To say the least, I got a little anxious. It's been more than 48 hours, and I'm feeling mostly safe, but I'm stressing myself out. There's nothing that I hate more in this world than throw up. Nothing.