Recently, we lived through the grossest day we have ever had to live through as a family. It was the day that we got … *shudders* … gastro.

Yep, gastro. Vom. Spew. Sah gross.

Well, I have to say that I didn’t get it, thank the bloody freaking gawd, though that in itself shocks the absolute heck out of me considering the amount of times I got thrown up on or had to pick spew off things.

It was my own personal nightmare.

Because some of you may know this about me, but most of you would not, but vomiting is something that scares me most in the world. I hate it. It’s terrifying. And I would do just about anything in the world to avoid a spew.

In fact, I used to take it next level in my drinking days (and I use that term loosely because I could only ever drink two or three drinks before feeling super sick). Whenever I would reach my limit in alcoholic beverages, I would feel so sick the next morning that I would go for long walks in the cold to try and stop the feeling from occurring. To stop from a spew which in the end would most likely only make me feel better. However, sometimes those walks didn’t even help and I would pass out mid-walk only to wake up on the pavement somewhere random with my face next to a pile of spew.

It’s that wave of nausea that proceeds the spew that scares me. That and that fact that you have no control of your body whilst doing it, you can’t even breathe. No I don’t like it one single bit.

So every time I even HEAR a whisper of someone getting sick I try to avoid them like the plague. The spew plague. “Bye Felicia” I metaphorically yell at them from the other end of the neighbourhood, “we will see you once you have totally decontaminated yourself in 10-15 days time”! Woo!

I’m half joking and yet totally not because I just cant handle being sick.

But this time, there was absolutely no avoiding it.

The in-laws usually look after both kidlets every Monday, and The Girl every Tuesday and Wednesday whilst The Boy goes to childcare, however for the last three weeks they have been off travelling the world and living life as they should. The lucky ducks.

They arrived back on Sunday and prepared themselves to take charge of the kids again, though exhaustedly on Monday.

Half way through the day, they both started feeling sick and my father-in-law knew he had gastro. Even though they were both feeling terrible they wanted to keep looking after the kids (as they really wanted to help us while we were both at work), and they only let us know they were sick once The Hairy Husband went to pick the kids up that night. Which was kind, but errrrrrm in hindsight it didn’t work out too well.

My mother in law called the husband later that night to say that they wouldn’t be able to look after the kids the following day as they were just too sick to do so, so I organised for the day off work. My daughter and I had a brilliant day together while my son was at childcare, and we were so happy. Then, when I went to wake my daughter up from her afternoon nap she grizzled and wasn’t her usual happy self so we cuddled until she projective vomited all over me. And herself. But mostly over me.

Oh my gawd. The smell. What to do? I was at one end of the house and my bathroom was at the other. How was I going to cross the great expanse without dropping any chunks onto the carpet below?

“Do. Not. Move” I whispered to my daughter who was too disgusted about what had happened to complain, and too tired to move a muscle regardless.

I hustled her across to the bathroom and held my breath while I took all of our clothes off, so nothing untoward fell into my mouth mid haul. I then stood us both in the shower and washed us from head to toe and I held the baby and sang to her as she heaved her remaining guts up. Some of her shower spew got stuck between my toes and made me scream like a possessed cat before I flung it away in fear.

Oh. My. Gawd. Vom.

Yes, The Girl had many spews over the course of that evening and night, which resulted in another shower or two because eeeek some of it got in my hair. And much of it got in hers. Sigh.

And at around 11:30pm, her brother decided that constant vomiting looked like fun, so decided to join in. He threw up all over himself, his bed and I swear to god over half of his bedroom walls.

Ermagawd gastro is horrific.

The Husband rode in like a valiant knight and cleaned up the bed room gagging the whole while really dramatically whilst I hopped in the shower for what felt like the 400th time that night, with The Boy. Again trying to get the clothes over the boys head without bits falling off onto the floor was a desperately unachievable task. Vom again.

Overnight, we ran in and out of The Girls room every hour with towels to clean her up. She dealt with it pretty well though and didn’t seem to have any fear of what was happening, though she wasn’t happy with it at all. Of course, who would be.

But The Boy slept on a trundle bed in our room as he seemed to get ESPECIALLY upset and scared every time he needed to be sick #GetsItFromHisMother, so he needed us to be there to comfort him before he freaked the heck out and spewed all over the floor… Which he tried to do every half an hour or so throughout the night.

The next day, everyone smelled. Everyone was exhausted. And everyone was miserable.

The kids and The Hairy Husband (who had started to feel a bit sick in the stomach himself) fell asleep wherever they could find a surface to sleep on (and a towel to rest their face on just in case), and we spent that next day comforting each other, or with the exception of me – literally spewing.

By afternoon everyone was on the mend, but I still lived in fear that gastro was coming for me.

I had worn gloves whilst picking all of the little pieces of spew off every piece of clothing and bedding, as I rinsed them clean to try and avoid my washing machine getting clogged up in the most revolting way, and I had washed my hands to the point that they were now feeling drawn and crispy. The husband and I had Pinoclean’d and Dettol wiped all of the surfaces we could get to, including the showers and toilets, and had Glen 20’d the shit out of the house.

And I hope that has saved us. Because I am slightly terrified that it will come back for me.

And if gastro does come a-callin’, it ain’t going to be pretty. I can tell you that for sure.


Have you and your family been struck down by gross viral illnesses before, like gastro? Any top tips to get through it? Leave a comment below xx