Deck the halls (& the toilet, the carpet, the bed sheets, &...)

So you kind of expect to have fond memories of your baby’s first Christmas, with them struggling to figure out wrapping paper and wearing a little red suit or Santa bib. Elizabeth’s first Christmas was unfortunately defined, at least for me, by vomit. It started with Steve around noon and by mid afternoon his vomiting was so frequent, violent and loud that even Linda in her present-toy-cookie induced self absorbed state asked why Daddy was ‘yelling’ in the bathroom and if his tummy was going to be all better soon. Needless to say there were minimal pictures taken as I struggled to take care of the girls and keep them at a safe distance from their father. And Christmas dinner never happened. The girls went to bed seemingly unaffected and Steve continued to get sick until about ten o’clock that night. At eleven, Steve called from his bed on the couch, “Terry, what’s that noise?” He walked upstairs into Linda’s room and started hollering for help. I rushed up to find a bewildered Linda covered head to toe in a vomit coating of broccoli and chocolate sauce. I bet you can all smell the holiday cheer right through the computer. I took Linda into the bathroom for a scrub down while Steve resisted the dry heaves as he gathered up the bedding and wiped down the race car. Linda, who thankfully has only had one other throw-up event in her life and it was well over a year ago, kept asking, “What I do all over my blue blanket?” She was in relatively good spirits as we got her back into bed and moved Steve into her room on the air mattress. The sickies were going to sleep together and watch out for each other. I was pretty sure I was in the "well room" until Elizabeth started projectile vomiting after nursing at about 2 AM. I just stood on a pile of dirty laundry in my bedroom and let the regurgitated milk splash off of me and drip down as I wasn’t going to be able to make it down the hallway to the bathroom and the thought of more cleaning at that hour was just too much. Ho, ho, ho, Merry Christmas to Mommy. It took a few days, but all the dirty clothes/bedding/floors/bodies got cleaned and Linda opened up all of our presents. At least I didn’t have to take care of everyone while throwing up myself. Santa, next year can you leave the viruses outside?