Gronking so hard right now. Matilda and I were away on a visiting family/camping lite trip in Oregon most of the week, and yesterday morning I woke up to several hours of intestinal savagery (not at the campsite, thank God; we'd already packed out and gone into town to spend the night in a hotel). I spent the morning huddled in bed or crouched in the bathroom instead of fixing a GiSHWHES upload problem, and then the first part of the drive back to my mom's place in Reno huddled up in the passenger seat trying to calmly reason my stomach out of sending whatever was left inside me straight out the other end.
Then my mom jerked the car over, staggered out, and threw up. And again, and again. Then we started looking for motels to camp out in, only to find that the Babe Ruth World Series was happening in Klamath Falls and all of southern Oregon and the northernmost bit of CA are completely full (teen baseball league, totally separate from Little League; I had no idea they even existed, but now I kind of hate them).
So, as there was clearly no other choice, my body pulled its shit together and I stopped contemplating my own vomit-fest and just drove the rest of the way to Reno. Had to pull over every 30 minutes on the dot so my mom could throw up some more, and there is one gas station mini-mart in Susanville from which I'm pretty sure we are now banned for life.
Arrived feeling like I'd just finished a triathlon and been jumped and beaten up at the finish line. Put Matilda to bed, anticipating the glory of bed myself. Matilda immediately jumped up, sprinted to the (carpeted) bathroom, and projectile vomited all over everything.
Washed it all up (counter, floor, walls, bathroom scale, book rack and books, dear God everywhere), washed her up, did a toothbrushing to get the bad taste out, washed her face, settled her back down, and she lurched right up and did it all over again.
Woke my mom so she could sit with Matilda while I dragged my clothes back on and went to the 24-hour Walgreens just past the casinos to get all the medicines I could think of, along with a jug of Gatorade. Came back, found that M had thrown up again (mom had finally stopped). Cleaned her up, dosed her up, and both she and mom exclaimed over how delicious the Gatorade was (a clear sign of just how sick they both were).
M threw up every 30 minutes until about 5, slept a bit, woke at 7 and drank a bit of warm water because her throat hurt so much, and has been sleeping ever since. I don't think we're coming home tomorrow.