This afternoon and evening has been filled with bickering kids. Non stop bickering, screaming matches (between them, then me trying to be heard above them), and what not. Always a wonderful way to spend the evening.
At some point after an easy dinner of a can of soup (Mother of the Year- I even had my 13 year old make it), Gilly started complaining of not feeling good. She does that quite often, though, so I just had her lay down.
Well, of course, this time it was real. After bouts of diarrhea, she puked- all over the kitchen floor. Now, to get to the part where I am the worst mother of the year, I had my son clean it up.
See, I don't handle bodily fluids at all, without my own meals joining the one already on the floor. I can't do it. I just can't. Nick worked late tonight- he had 2 people leave early, and 1 person call in, so he pulled a 12 hour shift. Usually, he picks up the slack when the kids are sick like this.
We did get a bucket for Gilly, which she has now used 2 more times. Nick is home, and just in time for a gross bout from Gilly. I feel bad, but man- if it were blood, I'd be fine, and Nick would be hiding. We work well that way. I handle the owies, he handles the uh-oh's.