I came home sick from work yesterday morning because I was feeling, in the words of a co-worker who had gone home sick on Thursday "hot and weird. In a bad way, not in a Lady Gaga-y way." I got home just in time. Believe me, throwing up in your wastebasket in a cubicle SUCKS. Much better to be home in your own bathroom, even if it IS fifteen minutes with the dry heaves. Then the just-kill-me-now muscle aches set in. Eventually I got the nausea under control enough to take some Pepto and keep it down, and I spent the rest of the day in bed, with cats. For future reference, nausea and diarrhea simultaneously is uncomfortable, distracting, and requires a lot of control.
Bob was running about six hours behind me - he ended up having to pull over and throw up at the side of the road on the way to pick Charlotte up. I've done that once in my life - I got the better deal yesterday.
It was a bad night.
Charlotte seems to have escaped it. Thank God she's such a good little girl. We got her a big bowl of cheerios and a couple of cups of milk (her dinner, I'm ashamed to say), got her into pajamas and closed the gate at the top of the stairs. She wandered the rooms for a bit, helped herself to saltines, climbed in and out of bed with us a couple of times, and put herself to bed when she got tired. With a less fabulous child it would have been hellish. Well, more hellish.
No one got dressed today. I'm glad I don't have to go in to work tomorrow. I'm hoping to be able to eat without fear tomorrow.
I have to wonder where we got this - we came down sick within hours of each other, which argues for a common vector, but we're not coming up with one. Not that it really matters, but it's always nice to have someone to blame.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
EDIT 10:43pm: Hey - I'm hungry! Still have the runs, but I'm hungry again. That's a definite step in the right direction.