Otis was Typhoon Mary. Or Typhoid Mary. Or something. White people sayings are so weird.
Either way, he wreaked some havoc on the stomachs of the McKinney side of the family. He started on Sunday night throwing up every half hour or so. I know this has probably been said a billion times since Adam and Eve were new parents, but there may be nothing worse than seeing your baby sick. And this was just throwing up. I said so many prayers for the moms and dads of really sick babies.
And all he wanted was hugs from mommy. And every time my heart stopped because he was puking and OH NO MARK CALL 911 all I wanted was my mommy.
Then? I got sick. Because if stomach bugs were 12 year old girls, I’d totally be their Justin Beiber. I get one every single year. What can I say? They love me.
And being sick with a baby is so different than being sick without a baby. Without a baby I got to sleep between trips to the bathroom and watch entire episodes of Ellen and generally waste away in private. With a baby? Nope. You just trudge through that crap and catch the throw up (his, not mine) with your bare hand like a good mom does.
Unfortunately, the love didn’t end there. We gave the bug to my parents’ house, getting my sister, grandmother and dad sick.
However, in the positive news that always follows a case of the stomach bug, Otis’ pajamas zipped up like they did 5 pounds ago! Go on with your bad self, Little O!