Beginning Monday night, our lives have been dominated by buckets. Yes, buckets.
Not necessarily your 5 gallon bucket, which is a real man's bucket, but "bucket" in terms of "anything that will hold liquid or a curdled, thickened bodily fluid.
Like this one...
Zeke began throwing up Monday night; about every 45 minutes until midnight, then about every other hour. By Tuesday afternoon, he'd thrown up every solid and liquid he'd taken in. (In case you were wondering, a two year old's throw up is as cute as an adult's.)
Marty and I took him to the hospital. I literally thank God for Zofran because it would otherwise have been a night of IVs. A two year old bucket looks like a large, plastic sock. We found out that it makes for a great hand puppet. Zeke has slowly been coming back around today.
When Emma arrived home from YEAH, she took over. We got her a bucket (trash can). In fact, she's probably on course to beat Zeke's record of 17. Then Eli joined. He got a bucket, a.k.a. trash can. Then Marty joined. Bigger "bucket." Just before everyone got into bed, Levi complained of a stomach ache. Another bucket. I sat with him from 9 - 9:40 while he cried, moaned and screamed but never threw up. Finally, lest she be left out, Grace decided she needed a "bucket." Grace has never been sick a day in her life and is not really sick right now.
So, that leaves just me...and no extra "buckets!" If it comes to it, I'll empty the corn for the deer that is kept in a real 5 gallon bucket.