Midnight Puking

The last time I stayed up this late for an ailing child was with Ashley last year. She got the flu shot (you know, the one with the claim attached to it that it doesn't actually make your child ill). She was sick for 4 days after. Now it's Annie's turn, although I do not have a flu shot to blame. Apparently she simply gets nauseous in the middle of the night because it seems like a good time.

Last night this happened, as well. Then she ran around like a crazy person all day and consumed whatever food her little paws found. She went to bed feeling fine. And now she's not.

After having her spend a few minutes in the bathroom to make sure she wasn't going to actually throw-up, I sent her back to bed. I gave her my now infamous, "the best thing for you is sleep" speech. I heard the *click* of her door shutting and got comfortable on the couch knowing full well that sick children never sleep through the night. I may only be a stepdad, but I have learned a lot in my tenure.

Not 10 minutes later I hear, "AIDEN" from the girls' room. "AAAIIIDEN" she screams again, with all the urgency her voice could muster. As I leaped off the couch a thousand scenarios raced through my mind, most of them including me attempting to get a large and bulky steam cleaner up to the top bunk of the girls' bunk bed. I was certain she had just puked everywhere. For those of you who don't know, leaping off the couch and running down the hall are two things my broken body don't particularly care for. But, my children always win out and when they need me, my body can do pretty amazing things. In this case, it got me to her room in under 3 minutes.

I opened her door, panic-stricken that she was either throwing up, about to throw up or something equally awful. "Can you bring me a barf bowl now?" her very sad voice asked from somewhere in the dark shadows of her bed. I was much relieved that no vomiting had occurred at this point.

Now she's laying on the couch next to me. She still hasn't thrown up and she doesn't have a fever. The barf bowl is stationed next to her head. I'd love to give her something to make her feel better, but there's really nothing to do. Plus, she'd rather lose an arm than have to take medicine anyway. I hate it when my kids are sick. Yes, the cleaning and whining and stressing and all that sucks. But what really sucks is seeing your normally bouncy, bright six year-old completely miserable.