Cough-Gag-Vomit

Just after writing my last post, I went out to water the flowers. Nate, who I assumed was still snuggled, enjoying quiet time on the couch, was actually sneaking up the stairs toward his sleeping-wheezing-just-a-week-over-Bronchitis brother's room. It didn't take long for Will's cries to come wafting down the stairs. I knew what the matter was right away because Will had been exhausted after Wonderkids and the park this morning, had even fallen asleep in the car (he only likes to sleep in his bed), and had only been down maybe an hour. And Nate had pulled the same sweet prank last week.

I raced upstairs, picked up Nate (who was trying to hide by Will's bed) by the shirt (oh I wanted to clobber him!! I had to use every ounce of energy to not follow through with the beating that was taking place in my mind - remember, smile, moms are so happy!), dropped him off in his room with an extremely stern warning to "NEVER EVER WAKE YOUR BROTHER AGAIN! YOU'VE MADE MOM SO ANGRY!!" (it's a little embarrassing, my throat is still sore). Will was upset and wheezing, finding it hard to catch his breath, so I got out the nebulizer (mist-machine-thing-that-you-put-medicine-in-to-make-your-kids-breath-better) and gave Will a breathing treatment, which helped his lungs open up. His coughing came on and (here's the really fun part!) he cough-gaged and threw up all over himself, my arms and legs, into the nebulizer, & soaked the little motorcycle he was carrying. I used about 20 wet wipes to get us clean enough to move without dripping more of that yummy acidic stuff over the rest of the room and actually walked downstairs to call for a doctor's appointment in vomit-soaked pants. So, are appointment's at 4. As Will said himself, "Ut-oh!". . .