On Thursday night, around 2:00am or so, Ian vomited a warm mound of half digested mac n'cheese in his bed. Husband cleaned him up and let me sleep, because ...
... I had an interview the next day. On Friday, Mom watched him, as I hunted around for old evaluations and syllabi. Interviewed for a splendid part time position at a splendid college. Everything went splendidly.
On Saturday, we took off for our last minute road trip. Steve and I just like going places. It doesn't really matter where. We like to interview new people about what they do for a living and what they do for fun. We like to get lost in new places. We just like to drive getting caught up in the romance of the road trip. I once drove across the country with my friend Robin, while reading On the Road out loud to each other.
So, that's how we ended up in the Poughkeepsie, a rather random destination. We knew that there were good things to do in New Paltz and there was hiking around Mohonk. (thanks for the links, Loren.) Poughkeepsie was close enough and had a hotel with a swimming pool, so off we went.
The vacation started off as planned. Checked in. Had a swim. Poked around Poughkeepsie for a good place to eat around Vassar. That's when I started feeling queasy. I just thought it was because Poughkeepsie sucked, but it turned out that the nausea was because I had gotten Ian's stomach virus.
By the time we got back to the hotel, I was puking. Then Jonah followed. Ian did some sympathy puking. Steve got slammed an hour later. We puked for twelve hours. Sometimes, there were two heads at a time over the toilet. We crawled across the room to the bed and passed out, only to wake to stomach cramps an hour later.
It was a classic, sucky family vacation, and we're mostly better enough to realize that it was really funny.