Whatever bug Camille had 2 days ago hit both Carter and me last night. We headed out to a celebration dinner as a family and once we arrived at the restaurant Carter said his stomach was hurting and only picked at his food. I should have known that would be the first sign of the apocalypse. Carter never turns down food.
We continued to eat, he ran to the bathroom twice to throw up (what a celebration, right?) and then we came home and tucked him into bed. My stomach started feeling queasy, but I thought that might have been the power of suggestion until I got sick myself. Ugh. It wasn’t food related, but a crazy fast acting stomach virus that chewed us up and spit us out 6 hours later.
From the highest highs to the lowest lows this week. Carter and I are still moving as if our bones were made of glass and sipping on broth to help rehydrate. We feel better, just tired and fragile. Josh has been caught in-between; not fully sick, but certainly not well. Hoping it bypasses Caleb altogether and that I have interesting things to write about tomorrow rather than more tales from the sickbed.