Weekend Fun

We had a fun weekend planned, really.
Ryan was taking a half day on Friday. Peter and I would pack the van while the kids were at school. Then, when Ryan got home, we'd get the kids out of school early and drive to Texas. We'd hopefully get into Dallas with some sunshine to spare. Then we'd stock up on cupcakes and kimchi, get some gas inducing food for dinner and spend the night there. Saturday we'd drive the rest of the way to Austin, have a great visit with Ryan's sister Katie and her cute family, see their new baby blessed, get their two year old nice and wound up, then travel back to Dallas for sleep, our children having had time to unwind in the car. Sunday we'd enjoy a leisurely return trip and get to bed early, ready for a new week.
It was not to be. Thursday Peter decided to have a fever and act a fool. He had us tricked into thinking he was going to be good and sick, so we canceled our plans. Ryan gave back his half day, and we decided we'd just stay home, take care of our sicko, clean, and organize. By Friday afternoon it was clear that Peter was going to be fine. The fever was gone and the crabbiness was more manageable, but the damage to our weekend was done. We spent Saturday watching nerdy cartoons, running errands, working on little projects, shopping for stuff we'd forgotten all week, taking naps, and destroying the house in an effort to organize it. You know, the usual. But at least noone was sick.
Sunday started off typically, too. We got up just a little later than we should have, fought about something dumb (I was totally right, as you probably could have guessed), got to church just barely on time (and had to sit on the hard seats anyway), and eventually made it home without a scratch. Actually, it was much better than that. The kids and I got to make a pit stop on the way home at the home of some dear friends who've just welcomed a brand new baby. I could have held him all day, but I have a feeling that's what they were planning to do with him, so we headed home.
That's when it started to go downhill. As you know, church makes you very hungry; starving, in fact, if you ask my kids. Since I happen to agree with their assessment of Sunday's hunger situation, I was ready to feed them the second we walked through the door. Kylie was ever so thankful and devoured her food right away, but Alex started in with something weird. Just minutes earlier in the car, he was about to die of starvation, but he was suddenly not hungry. I assumed he was protesting the chicken salad, so I sent him to his room to rediscover his hunger. It didn't work. He eventually took one bite and was finished; then he started acting really tired. I thought he just needed to go to bed early, so I started helping him get ready.
And then it happened. On the way from my room to his room there was a splat. And some whining. Those came from Alex. Then an "Oh crap!" and a "You take the baby, and I'll take the vomit!" Those came from me. And now here we are. The Alex is sick. He puked his guts out repeatedly last night, and he's home sick (but feeling much, much better) from school today. Did I mention he also pooped in his pants about an hour before the puking started. I should have seen that as a sign things were headed that way. Instead I lectured and bathed him, like all good parents do in that situation.
And then there's Ryan. I don't know if it's sympathy sickness or what, but he's home from work, alternately trying not to puke and then actually to puke. I wished he'd make up his mind, puke, and feel better. I hate it when he's actually sick on his sick days.
So on this, the first day of March, I am home with all my boys, each one up to no good. I really hope whatever's got them feeling sick is Y chromosome specific and leaves Kylie and me alone.
Here's to next weekend: may it be less disgusting.