No Luck of the Irish Here

I've been lucky. My kids are 5 and 2 and have managed to escape the stomach bug . . . until this weekend.

Saturday started off terrible and ended just as bad. I woke up to find D, the 2 year old, laid out on the couch like a bowl of jelly. He was, literally, a gray lump. Panicking, as I tend to do, I immediately called the pediatrician and took him in right away.

D proceeded to be a miserable lump and throw up on me in the waiting room. Lucky me. The doctor did say he had an ear infection but thought this was the beginning of some sort of flu. Great.

I got D home, laid him out on the couch and proceeded to panic some more. One thing about me, I hate sickness. Illness of any kind really pushes me over the edge. I just don't do well with it and I worry myself sick about my kids when they get anything - and I mean even the sniffles.

D slept for about an hour, woke up and said he wanted a donut. We gave him a little something to eat, gave him his antibiotic, and the child perked up. Within an hour, he was bouncing on the couch.

Phew - that wasn't that awful and thank God he was feeling better. And then . . .

R, the 5 year old, started turning the same shade of gray as D was 6 hours earlier. And he complained that his stomach hurt. Oh no. Oh please, no.

Yes. R was sick as sick could be and that damn stomach virus intruded into our lives. R was sick for a few hours and then slept it off. By 12 midnight he was feeling much better.

Not being Irish myself, I never really celebrated St. Patrick's Day. I suppose we didn't have the luck of the Irish this weekend. Except come Sunday morning when all was right with the world and my children were back to being themselves. Then I quietly celebrated.