I know what you’re thinking. “Yesterday was Monday, yet no post from TurtleHead! Is she dead?”

To that I say: close enough.

Remember back in October…November…December…January…when every other post I made went something like, “We are sick, we are all sick, sick sick sick, and it sucks”? Followed by a graphic description of boogers, and their removal?

And then came February and March, when every bug currently living in Ottawa had already passed through this house, giving us a lovely Honeymoon period of wellness, during which I was foolish enough to believe that we’d make it through the rest of the winter without any more illness?

Apparently the universe is punishing me for not having a Corey Hart Moment* while I could. And also for travelling to Toronto, where a fresh lot of bugs caught sight of our new blood and rubbed their furry little feelers with glee.

This time around, it’s the motherlode — the flu. We’ve got fevers. We’ve got stomach cramps. We’ve got chills and shakes and wicked chesty coughs.

And the barf. Oh, the barf.

Sunday night we tried to put the Wee One to bed, but she was so congested and coughing so much — plus, teething to boot — that she just cried and cried for hours, which is so unlike her. While we were trying to soothe her and get her some sleep, the Captain decided to throw up all over his bed. Then he threw up on the bathroom floor while we were trying to get him to the toilet. Then some more went in the toilet. Then another splotch on the floor where we stood him when we mistakenly thought he was all done. Then another floor splotch on the only clean spot in the bathroom where we had moved him when we were sure there coudn’t possibly be any more. And then more, in the sink.

So the Wee One howled in her bed while we stripped him down and his bed down and cleaned everything up and got him back to bed with new jammies and new sheets. Then I went in to deal with the Wee One and a half hour later, the Captain threw up in his bed, AGAIN. And believe it or not, totally repeated the whole process so the bathroom was once again turned into a major biohazard.

And I know you won’t believe this, but after the cleanup and after I finally got the Wee One to sleep…the whole thing happened AGAIN. I swear he must have vomited everything he ate for the past three weeks. He was actually so sick, and had so much trouble breathing afterwards, that we’re pretty sure he must have eaten something that was contaminated with an allergen. He had a new brand of banana chips that day, which is the likely culprit — possibly made with peanut oil, we think.

Oh, and did I mention that during this mess we were entertaining guests? FameThrowa and a friend of hers were over. Here’s our idea of a party time: screaming baby, barfing boy, two loads of laundry, major bathroom cleaning and decontamination, followed by snacks and tea. Aren’t you just dying to come on over? Thank goodness FameThrowa used to live with us so she was able to make her own tea. Entertain yourselves, guests! And watch that puddle of barf on your way out!

So anyway, I spent most of yesterday moaning in bed and feeling crappy myself, while a not-quite-as-sick Sir Monkeypants tried to nap on the couch while sick kids sat all around him watching videos. I couldn’t even get up to make it to the computer to talk about barf. The internet had to wait a WHOLE DAY to hear about it. Criminal, I know, which is why we are thinking of getting a laptop, for barf-recording emergencies such as this.

* Corey Hart Moment: A moment when you notice that the quality of your life is made better by the distinct lack of something bad, as in, “Let us take a moment to acknowledge the fact that Corey Hart does not have a new album.” So named when my friend Gordo made exactly that comment in university one time.