So, it's like 4 in the morning. I couldn't wake up all day yesterday. I slept until 9:30 and by 3pm I was so tired I couldn't keep my eyes open. I slept until 5. Now I can't fall back asleep. Ugh. Everyone always says to read if you can't sleep. Ha. That doesn't work for me. I started reading at 1030 or so. I finsihed the whole book at 2:30am but still didn't feel sleepy. But I did feel like writing. The first time in weeks. it isn't great but it is what it is. enjoy.
So here is Chapter 3
The next morning started with about as much excitement as the day before. Except it was Austin that woke in the night screaming. Amy found him sitting in bed covered in throw up. The smell of half digested Salisbury steak and carrots was enough to send her running for the bathroom herself. Austin followed her, dripping vomit all the way down the hall. He got to the bathroom just as Amy finished puking herself and just in time that his next bout went right into the toilet. After they were both done Amy carefully pulled his stinking shirt from his sticky arms with the tips of her fingers, trying her darndest to not get any on her. Austin climbed into the tub and she hosed him off with the hand shower. Afterwards she put a clean pull-up on him and one of his brother’s oversized shirts. Then she covered a spot on the floor near his bedroom door with old towels, a trick she learned the first time Connor got the stomach flu. It was much easier to throw dirty towels in the wash then to clean the carpets.
But the throwing up didn’t stop with Austin. Within twenty minutes Carys was crying, too. Amy was still trying to pull the covers from Austin’s bed without getting sick again. Connor rolled and groaned from his bed next to her and she knew it was only a matter of time before he was up. Amy ran to the girls’ room to help Carys who had vomit dribbling out of her nose. She held her hands up letting it drip down her arms.
“I toed up,” she said softly.
“I know, sweetie. Let’s get you cleaned up before you wake Holly.” Amy swallowed hard, willing herself not to be sick and breathing roughly through her teeth. That wasn’t working well enough so she pulled her shirt up over her nose to stifle the smell a little. She had barely gotten Carys’ nightgown off when Connor screamed from his room.
“MOMMY! MOMMY!”
***
The next three hours sped by in a blur of runs to the bathroom and scrubbing carpets. The smell of it all had been enough to send Amy back to the bathroom a few times herself. Every ten minutes Austin and Carys woke groaning, with wide eyed fear of the impending gagging and taste of acid in their mouths. Five minutes after they were done Connor would wake. Holly escaped the horrors, waking only once for a mid-night bottle.
When it was finally over and the kids settled into a restful sleep at last she piled the dirty sheets, pajamas and towels into a hamper and set it in the hall for the morning. She hasn’t planned to be back at the Laundromat so soon. She had just done the kids’ clothes the week before. She straightened the clean towels under the boys and covered them both with an old blanket she found in the closet. She remembered using that blanket as a kid when the family took long road trips in the summer. The picture of horses running at sunset was faded but the fabric still had the rough, scratchy feeling that Amy had hated all those years ago. It was all she had. Connor rolled over and pushed it away from his face but he didn’t wake up.
Amy lifted Carys carefully from the floor in the boys’ room, trying not to wake her. Her hair smelled of throw up and SoftSoap. They would all need baths in the morning, she thought. She laid Carys in her bed, fresh sheets fitted neatly around the edges. Carys thrashed around on the cold surface until Amy pulled her spare blanket up to her chin. She grabbed the corner and rubbed it between her fingers, bringing it to her nose as if to smell her own scent. After a few seconds she seemed satisfied that it was indeed her blanket. She rolled to her side, knees in her chest, blanket over her face and sighed. Amy listened to her breath for a minute. In and out came the soft, shallow breaths of her little girl. Her soft blond hair peaked out from above the frayed blanket. Her feet, still in her My Little Pony slippers, stuck out from the other end. She tucked Holly in one last time hoping she wouldn’t wake.
Amy felt worn, like she hadn’t slept in days. I haven’t, she thought. I haven’t slept in weeks, months. I can’t remember the last time I got to sleep for eight hours straight, she mumbled to herself as she absently straightened the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water from the giant five gallon jug in the fridge. She sipped it, letting the coolness spill down her throat, amazed that she could feel it empty into her stomach. After the initial sip she grew even more thirsty and gulped the rest down. She quietly brushed her teeth, desperately trying to get out the taste of last night’s supper. She caught a glance of herself in the mirror and hardly recognized the old lady staring back at her. What happened? She thought. Gone was the shining auburn hair and gleaming brown eyes. Her hair had turned several shades darker, streaks of gray, growing from her center part. Her eyes had a dull look of defeat where there used to be a sparkle of hope and anticipation of what her future might bring. She rubbed at her eyes. They felt dry and sunken. Dark circles radiated out from them. Her lips were cracked and several pimples had popped up over the day. Amy wondered how many 30 year old women still had acne. She grimaced as she popped them one by one. She quickly washed her face with the SoftSoap. She didn’t look any better but her face at least felt clean.
She climbed back into bed at 4:40am. Daryl stirred slightly then started snoring. He grew louder as Amy tried to get comfortable. She pulled her comforter tight around her neck, covering her exposed ear. After several minutes of the snoring she couldn’t take it and nudged Daryl.
“What?” he blurted, looking around confused.
“You were snoring,” Amy mumbled back from under the blanket.
“Ugh.” Daryl rolled over the other way, wrapping his own blanket around him like a little cacoon. The room was quiet except for the gentle hum of the window fan Amy kept running year round. She felt sleep pulling on her eyes. The lids were heavy and it felt as if her eyes were sinking into the sockets with ever breath she took. Amy slowly relaxed, taking long deep breaths, letting them out slowly. She felt herself slipping away to a world where she got eight hours of sleep and didn’t spend half her day cleaning up after people. And then the snoring started again. Tears immediately sprung to Amy’s eyes. She was just so tired. Why don’t I get to sleep? She wondered.
4 Ranted.
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