Poopocalypse 2018

Tuesday, May 15th was a dark day in our household. It was night. As I lay supine on the couch, I felt that familiar gurgle in my lower belly. I sprinted to the toilet and had what could only be described as an eruption. Positively volcanic. I went to bed thankful that I only had approximately eight steps between myself and the toilet.

On Wednesday I received this text:

E: I think I’m sick. *sweating emoji

I immediately called him. “What kind of sick?” I asked, warily.

He replied, “Well, I’ve been throwing up in the bathroom.” Oh, dear.

It got us. The Stomach Bug. It had been going around our church and we had fallen. We were brave. We were optimistic. We were GOING to the beach that weekend. We powered through the week, Ed only missing one day of work. Day by day, I watched the boys for signs of sickness.

On Friday, Teddy said he felt sick. I was concerned but eager to believe he was malingering. He tends to sometimes. They were so excited about going to the beach; we packed up the car and headed out around 12:45 p.m.

Just outside of Raleigh, I heard that oh-so-recognizable sound of retching from the back seat. Teddy was covered in puke. Covered. I do not deal well with vomit, yet I had to remove him from his car seat, gingerly unbuckling his chunk-covered straps. I made him stand in the dirt by the parking lot of a gas station while I figured out what to do.

Half an hour later, I had him wiped down and changed into clean clothes. The car seat was as good as I could make it with only baby wipes to work with. We got back in the car and motored toward Wilmington and Wrightsville Beach. This was our first family get-away since 2004. Cousin Landon, Aunt Stef and Uncle Alex were coming, as well as Grandma and Grandpa. We were going to the beach.

We beached. We swam, we played, we sunned, we rained. We pooped.

On Saturday evening, I got Oliver into his swim diaper. I took him to pee one last time before going to the indoor pool.

“You gonna change me?” he squeaked. Oliver squeaks. Immediately, I was suspicious. He doesn’t often request changing. I peeked into his swim diaper and found a puddle of poo. Oh my. I immediately dropped him into the bathtub to begin the emergency clean-up procedure.

I couldn’t take this boy swimming. I felt terrible. I was in my suit and Teddy was ready to go. Teddy, who had been vomit-free for over 24 hours, was impatient. I left Oliver in the tub and Teddy, Jack and I went swimming.

That night, Oliver in one Pack n’ Play and Jack in another, Teddy beside me, I slept. At two I woke to crying. Teddy was sick. He tossed his tomatoes. Literally. On the bed beside me. It wasn’t a lot. I used a plastic shovel and scooped it out of the bed.

I retrieved a towel from the bathroom and placed Teddy on it in case there was more coming. I returned to sleep.

At nearly eight a.m. I was waking up. I heard a gurgle. Then a squirt. Teddy had diarrhea. In the bed. He didn’t even wake up. I returned to the bathroom for more towels and I lifted his bum and put them under him. It wasn’t a huge mess.

“I think I pooped,” he murmured sleepily.

“I know, baby.” I cleaned him up and popped him in a pull-up. We were leaving that day, Sunday. We got up, halfheartedly began cleaning the room and packing. I took the baby to my parents while we decided what to do about breakfast. We couldn’t bring the boys down to the restaurant.

I volunteered to go to breakfast by myself. I know. I know. I’m such a martyr. I took Landon and Stef with me and we had a nice breakfast. We managed to convince the staff of the restaurant that since we had two sick boys upstairs we would need food to go. Kids eat free at the resort but only in the restaurant. They gave us boxes and didn’t charge us.

I took breakfast to Ed and the boys and we continued halfheartedly packing.

Ollie started screeching. I looked over and poo was puddling on the bed, right out of the leg of his pull-up. There was nothing we could do but wrap him in a towel and take him to the bathtub for more hazmat cleanup.

Ed cleaned the bed as well as he could and piled all of the soiled sheets at the top of the bed. We resumed packing. At this point, I had already asked for a late check-out. We wouldn’t need to rush.

We finally got it together, fed the baby and left the hotel. Despite all of the sickness, we managed to have a good time with my family. In total, Oliver had three poop clean-up baths, Teddy had one and Jack had two, though Jack’s was simply due to being a baby and blowing out his diaper. I hope we can do it again!

PS Landon puked in the car on the way home. Will the virus pervade the Davis-Wiley household? Only time will tell.

** I have omitted the name of the hotel to protect the innocent. It’s hardly an advertisement for their resort, though the staff was friendly and courteous. I believe I’ll write them a review. I won’t mention this.





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