My hands smell like bleach. I was up late last night cleaning bathrooms with Clorox spray. As I was putting all the kids to bed, Griffin threw up and made a horrendous mess all over the bathroom. Michael was downstairs on his 5th trip to the toilet since the 4th quarter, which is why I was putting all the kids to bed. I later cleaned the downstairs powder bath because Regan Wallick had thrown up in there just a few hours earlier during our Super Bowl party…right after he threw up on his mom and on the carpet. His brother, Seth, was at home with his grandma and a fever; our friends, the Corneliuses, were home with their son, Jarrett, who had thrown up on Saturday night. All the boys were together at a birthday party on Saturday, which I did not attend, but Michael was there with our kids because I had been in bed all day and had thrown up three times the night before. Michael was home and not in Paris, a trip he had planned to take on Friday night so I could enjoy some peace and quiet at home for the weekend, because Nathan had thrown up in the car on Friday afternoon – right after I changed the most disgusting diarrhea diaper I had ever seen in all three of our children. On Thursday night, he had thrown up just before dinner at the Wallick’s house, where Lara and I were serving pizza to 8 of the kids from our team – including Seth, Regan, Jarrett & Griffin – while the moms and dads served dinner to low-income kids in Fort Worth. I’m assuming all of the fun started when Nathan went to school on Thursday morning and shared cooties with one of his pals.
Which is why my hands smell like bleach.