Sorry Gang, but posting will be light this week. The house has fallen ill with the flu. Greg is the last man standing. I won’t go into details, but it’s bad. Very bad. It started Thursday at the start of the Fall Festival (which we missed after I spent weeks helping to organize, but them’s the beans folks). When the word got out that Sara had gotten the bug that was going around, parents grabbed their kids and started heading for the hills. She’s known as the Bulletproof Kid when it comes to the germ of the week.

I Lysoled the entire house while wearing gloves, but it was too late for me. Kelly started throwing up this morning at 5 am. So far our goal of staying out of the ER is holding, but not without major efforts by Greg to hand spoon us every liquid in the house. And the good news about being a nurse? I have it all! Phenergan, Zofran…you know, the really good stuff.

I am hoping I didn’t traumatize my Dad for life. He was helping me with the girls at the Festival and was with me through the first scary hours when Sara managed to throw up nearly 30x in 6 hours. Greg was in Chicago, and had to high-tail it home. So there was me, Dad, puking Sara, and crying Kelly, all huddled with buckets on Sara’s twin bed, trying to stay calm. Thanks to my father’s extraordinarily Zen demeanor, the whole thing wasn’t all that bad. One call to the pediatrician and one dose of Phenergan later, and Sara’s Status Pukeruptomus had ceased. Dad was SUCH a trooper, walking Kelly up and down the hall, and reading Sara her new favorite book, “Pat the Cat”, which she calls Pat De Tat.

Greg claims he feels a tickle in his throat. Oh God, call the paramedics. I tease him, but mostly I’m just grateful the girls both seemed to have inherited his immune system. For me to get “The Roto”, as we call it at Sara’s school, is nothing. For Sara and Kelly to get it? It’s must be the Ebola of Rotos. Greg has done so much laundry that we may have broken the washing machine!