Think the Macarena. That is how that phrase has been singing in my head since about 10pm last night. I am working on about 4 hours of sleep here people, so bear with me. We had just sat down for a popsicle nightcap when I heard a cough that resembled a gag coming from the twins' room. Turns out, poor Izzie had barfed all over herself, her bed, her lambs (her favorite, I-can't-sleep-without-them stuffed pink lambs), EVERYTHING. So, I scooped her up and rushed her to the bathroom to give her a tubby. (Wait, I need to backtrack~Meg barfed a couple of weeks ago and had what we thought was "nervous tummy" over the impending end of first grade, and a dentist appointment. Nuh uh. Turns out she had a stomach bug. She passed that bug to Drew, who woke us up Thursday night barfing, and other things. He still isn't right). Anyhoo, while I was trying to find Izzie under the barf, Doug cleaned up the bed and Annie watched him. I got Izzie all set and brought her downstairs to settle her down. She was laying on me and I was rubbing her back, and then she looked at me, and barfed all over ME. While I was squawking for a towel, Doug yelled that he had Annie and she was barfing. OMG! So, for the next 3 hours, we had the girls up in our bedroom/bathroom, dealing with the barfing. Taught our 17 month olds how to stand on a stool, hands on the toilet~you know, proper barfing techniques. Finally got them to bed around 1 and I tried to sleep, all the while listening to the monitor for more barfing sounds. Annie was up at 4:45, but no barfing, thank god. Only a little more barfing from Annie this morning, and the girls have been barf-free since then.
So, this was the first time that we've had to deal with barfing twins. I know it won't be the last. I am, however, hoping that the next time they need to barf, they can TALK and warn us. Because the element of surprise when it comes to barfing just bites (no, not Barq has bite). At least Izzie got a bit whiney before it was her turn, so I had some idea to rush her to the bathroom. Geez.
To add insult to injury, I haven't felt swell all day. I haven't decided if I'm just fahreaking tired, or if, as is par for the course, I am getting sick as well. I am looking forward to some dinner at some point tonight, and to lay on the couch and try to watch the Red Sox gain some ground on the Tampa Bay Rays (why did they change the name from Devil Rays? I would love to know the reason). Ack, more coughing gags over the monitor. Calgon, take me away.