This hasn't exactly been the start to the new year that I'd been hoping for. Not that I've actually been HOPING for a certain start to the year. But had I been, it wouldn't include the last 96 hours. To be honest, the entire 96 hours haven't been bad. It's basically just been the hours between...oh...11pm and 6am that have been rough.
It started Monday night. Shane and I were sitting in the Family Room, as per usual, watching something on TV when Shane jumped up from the couch and ran upstairs to Ty's room. I followed...because I had no idea what was going on. Turns out Ty was throwing up. And eagle-eared Shane heard it. For the next 3 hours, the poor kid wretched every 20-30 minutes. No fever. No aches. No other symptoms. Just the throwing up. By morning, Ty was perfectly fine. We figured he must've eaten something his stomach didn't agree with.
Tuesday night, when Shane and I were headed to bed, we did our usual kid-tucking-in: I took the baby's room while Shane tucked in the big kids. The MINUTE I opened the door to the triplet's room, I knew someone had thrown up. I almost did, myself, when the smell hit me. But I didn't see anything...anywhere...in any crib. And everyone was sleeping. No one had cried. I didn't know where to start the search. Except for the fact that Eli's crib WREAKED of vomit. Sure enough, Eli had thrown up in the corner of his crib, thrown all his blankets on top of it, and fallen asleep in the opposite corner. Not a peep. Must not have been something Ty ate. In the morning...Eli was fine!
Wednesday night. We were prepared. But nothing. No one threw up. All was quiet.
Thursday night...all seemed quiet...we tucked in the kids and went to bed. A half hour later, Shane was calling for me from the triplet's room. Victim #3: Ava. We cleaned her up, stripped her crib, and put her to sleep in the Pack & Play. We had the routine down from Eli's night of sickness.
Before the morning came, there was another little girl in our bed. Zoe was complaining that her belly ached, too. Uh oh. We were about to have our first double duty. But Zoe didn't throw up...she just fell asleep in our bed for a few hours.
And then Raging Bull woke up. At 4:30am. That's Shane's new name for Cole. He wakes up roaring and thrashing, thus the new nickname. If you get to him quick enough (i.e. before he stands up in his crib) there's a 50% chance that you can pat him back to sleep. But not this morning. At 4:30am, I think Cole stood up before he started roaring. So I brought him downstairs to see if he'd cuddle back to sleep with me on the couch. Afterall, our bed was getting a bit crowded. I thought for sure, he was going to be the next to fall prey to the virus. Shane came down to handle Raging Bull, since Zoe as about to throw up and wanted Mommy. Within 15 minutes, Cole was asleep on the floor and Shane was asleep on the couch. No vomit.
That left me upstairs with the two sick princesses. Thankfully, Zoe only threw up while Ava was sleeping. And Ava returned the favor...waiting until Zoe was asleep before she threw up again.
By 6:30am, Ava was awake and cuddling with Shane on one couch. Zoe was asleep in my bed. Cole was on the floor, snoozing. Eli was cuddling with me on the other couch. Ty was laying next to Cole...not asleep...but still. No one was where they'd gone to bed the night before.
I'm hoping Cole holds out and doesn't succomb to the vomit. I can't handle any more. But I'm pretty sure I'll lose my mind if the final three Higby's come down with "The 2009 New Year Bug".