I’m woken up around 3am. Dustin is nudging me awake, I open my eyes and he is leaning over me holding a pillow. “I’ve been on the can for like, an hour. I’m going to go sleep on the couch, okay?” He says. I mutter something and roll over, pleased to have access to the whole double bed and wonder why he’s got the shits and I hope it wasn’t my cooking.
Around four thirty I hear someone making those noises you make just before you barf, and he is running down the hallway and into the bathroom. I then hear alot of things I do not want to hear.
Same thing around six am, this time more violently, and I get up to offer some comfort. He takes a cold glass of water and when I fall back sleep he is still in the bathroom.
Today hasnt been any different. More runny tummy and I’m doing everything except setting up an IV of water, apple juice and ginger ale. I make a large pot of soup for him (packaged but still made with Love) and feed him vitamin c and echinacea tablets.
It’s never a good thing when someone is sick, but secretly, I was glad to have him home during the day today, glad to have something to break up the monotony of the week with Lillienne and ABC’s, explosive diapers and laundry, cleaning and trying to cook.

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