Not for the Weak of Stomach

When I was about 9 years old, my parents surprised my sister and I with some stuffed animal dolls. You see, back in those days, whenever we visited my dad at his store (I think it was Hook's back then), she and I would play with these Baby Muppet dolls; her with Kermit and me with Miss Piggy.

One day, we were visiting dad at the store, and to my chagrin, there were no Baby Miss Piggy dolls left. For some reason, this translated to utter heartbreak for me. I was inconsolable.

Turns out, mom and dad had purchased the last Baby Miss Piggy, as well as a Baby Kermit, and surprised Susan and I with them one summer day as we were getting ready to leave on vacation. (I'm sure they also bought Courtney something, but I don't recall. I mostly paid attention to her to torture her in some way.)

So, we loaded up the family in our blue 80-something Dodge Ram Van, with the middle seats taken out so we could spread a sleeping bag on the floor for all the kids to play on. Those were the days when children wearing seat belts was about as common as a chicken in a ninja suit. Susan and I had our new Baby Muppet dolls and I was ecstatic. We were heading up to Cando, North Dakota to stay with my grandma and grandpa and visit random other assorted family members.

Well, by the time we pulled into the Parkers' driveway in Cando, I was horribly, awfully sick. It was the sickest I remembered being in my young life. I was throwing up constantly and was essentially confined to bed as I was too weak to do anything else. For the first two and a half days of our North Dakota vacation, the most fun I had was playing with the Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls in my grandma's spare bedroom whenever I gathered up enough energy to sit up in bed.

There are a few things I remember vividly about this vacation:

1. It was the debut of "Spike", the dog that belonged to Great-Uncle Ray (for the life of me I'm not sure how he is actually related to the family, I just remember him as the old guy that lived in a rickety little house out by Uncle Mike's barns on the farm). I'd never met Spike and I remember being insanely jealous of my sisters getting spend time with this fabulous dog. Courtney would come up to my room and tell me all about Spike, and she made him out to be this SuperDog, the coolest dog in all the universe. To this day, when I think about Spike, I recall him as the smartest, most awesomest dog that ever existed.
2. One time my Uncle Mike asked me if I wanted lemonade or orange juice to drink. I asked for lemonade. He brought me back up a glass of lemonade with orange-ade ice cubes. When he told me that, I nodded sickly, and then left that glass sitting on the bedside table in disgust. I could not imagine drinking it, but I couldn't bear telling my beloved Uncle Mike that I didn't want it. A little later, when I gave in because I was so darn thirsty, it was the most delicious beverage I had ever encountered.
3. I despised Baby Miss Piggy. I assume I associated this god-awful sickness with this brandnew stuffed animal. At one point, I had to switch guest bedrooms because other people were coming over and needed the room I had been staying in. I purposefully left Miss Piggy behind. A few hours later, someone noticed my new toy had been left in the old room, and brought it over to me. I remember feeling physically ill (or more physically ill, I guess), just upon laying eyes on that blasted doll. I dared not tell anyone how much I loathed that stuffed animal....I had been thrilled about it just days before, after all....but even now I can't think about baby Miss Piggy without feeling nauseated.

Fast forward to twenty-some years later in the Davidson household. This week has been filled with fevers, abdominal cramps, cold sweats, headaches, and bodily fluids erupting from any number of cavities. We've been miserable. Sophie has managed to stay healthy. The rest of us.... not so much. Unfortunately, Sophie is pretty much the only one that can't do anything for herself (as in, feeding, bathing, clothing, etc.) The only one that feels like getting up and around and doing things is, sadly, not quite self-sufficient enough to be counted on. ["Sophie! Go throw a frozen pizza in the oven, will ya? Oh, and go ahead and change your own diaper, and give Noah a bath while you're at it. Thanks. You're a doll."]

Noah's been in a pretty bad way the last couple days, up all night the other night vomiting, and some bouts of diarrhea. He's been sleeping on the couch quite a bit, mostly because he just doesn't have the energy to do much else.

Last week, Ben bought Toy Story 3 which had just come out on DVD. The boys had seen it in the theater but are super-excited to have it at home. It has been playing in the living room an awful lot these days.... the kids don't feel much like playing, and Ben and I are too sick to care that they started the movie up again.

So, I'm starting to wonder if Noah (who has watched Toy Story 3 three times in the past 2 days) will start to associate this new movie with this dreadful sickness, much as I did with poor Baby Miss Piggy. I certainly hope not. But this kid hates being sick. For instance, yesterday, after spending more time with his head in the toilet, he turned to me and said, "stop saying I'm sick!".... as if my announcement of him being sick was somehow preventing his recovery. He thinks he can will himself to stop vomiting.

The other night, at 3:30 in the morning, as he is dry heaving in the trash can yet again, he looks up at me and says in his most forlorn voice, "frowing up is hard work...."

You said it, kid.