Oh, What a Night.

I am still reading Lords of Discipline. And let me tell you, it has helped to be reading about this brutal military college and the torture that the boys went through: the hazing, the tormenting, the beatings.

Helpful because I am a Lord of Discipline myself of sorts. At least, I was last night.

Lucy has had a bug for a coupla days. Diahhrreeaa (can never spell it so i just try to make it as poorly spelt as possible) and vomiting. And because we all love our little scrumptious red headed lady so much, we tend to get whatever she gets, virus wise.

So. Last night.

0900 hours : Monty wakes up from a deep sleep with a long piercing cry. You hear that cry and it is like a giant marine animal distress call. You just feel like there must be a thousand humpback whales dying on a beach somewhere. But instead it is just that he has barfed all over himself in his bed. Run him to the bathroom, on the way there he makes several vomitus deposits along the hallway, then continues hurling like the Hun for ten minutes. Everyone joins us in the bathroom as we watch in wonder the wiry little french fry body that is Monty taking a beating over the toilette.

0930 hours: Settle M on the couch. Get Lucy down after her fourteenth bath of the day.

0945 hours: Monty barfs into Oma's blue pail that we will be seeing alot of in the next eight hours.

1030 hours: Jay doesn't feel good and falls asleep while we are watching Ray and keeping vigil over M on the couch.

1040 hours: M. Blue Pail. Not much left in the kid to come out, but the heaving is happening.

1130 hours: Lucy wakes up crying. Now I have both of them on the couch with me watching the movie. Jay has gone to bed. It could be worse, though, I could have gone blind at seven years old.

0030 hours: M heaving again. Lucy needs another diaper change/full body hosedown. Blech.

0100 hours: Would it be callous of me to insert here that Ray was a fantastic movie?

0130 hours: The hazing begins. Jay comes hurtling out of bed to vomit violently and loudly.

0145 hours: Sam comes flying from his bed to barf his brainz out.

0155 hours: Mise-en-scene: Me in the hall with Lucy on my lap and a zombie like Monty lying beside me. Sam sitting on toilet begging for the pain to stop. Jay hanging over bathroom sink, waiting for the end of the world.

0215 hours: Relative calm.

0240 hours: Sam. Blue Pail Special.

0300 hours: Monty. Dry heaving in my arms with a towel over his mouth.

0345 hours: Jay. In bathroom with door shut. Privacy, please.

0400 hours: All the kids are up. Jay in bed. We tramp downstairs and settle on couch. Sam uses pail again. Monty asks for some licorice.

0430 hours. I think we may be asleep. Sort of.

0500 hours. Put Lucy in crib. Hang out in bathroom with Sam and Monty while they both have a go. We talk about the Son of the Mask, humpback whales, and going to Grampa's on Sunday.

0530 hours: Back down to couch with Sam and monty to see what is on Treehouse TV. Apparently a symptom of this bug is sleeplessness. For them. Not me. Am. I. Tired.

0600 hours. Lucy wakes up crying. Did I mention how happy I am not to have gone stone blind at seven years of age?

0610 hours. If Blue Pails Could Talk. This one would say he quits.

0630 hours. Monty points out the kitchen window and informs me it's morning. I put the kettle on and go get my paper off the front porch.

0700 hours. Little cat nap with Lucy on me and Sam on couch beside me and Monty eating licorice in the kitchen.

0900 hours. Laundry. Must be done.

Now. sitting here at computer in kind of a daze. Is it still February? How old will I be this year?

A spectre is haunting me. Because I am the last soldier standing. When will this virus come and get me and lock me in the hole and burn cigarettes on my back? Doesn't matter. I am a Lord of Discipline. I can take it.

A.