It came – with a vengeance.  Baby was sitting there, quietly eating his dinner (that should have been my first clue), and blam – projectile vomiting. Okay, I thought, it must have been something he ate.  We’ll take it easy for the rest of the day and see what’s what.   Nope.  He was sick several more times.   We did all the right things, fluids, showers, laundry, you name it. The next morning was a little better.  After negotiating with my husband, I went into work in the morning, he went in the afternoon – we traded off taking care of Little Man, since he obviously couldn’t go to daycare.  When I got there, he seemed a little better, so we went for a little walk and played quietly later in his room. 

Then, the phone rang.  “I’m sick,” came the sound of my husband’s strained voice, “I’ve got what the baby has, and worse. I’m coming home.” Worried that I was going to have to spend the next few days taking care of two sickies (and quietly boasting to myself about my super strong immune system), I got ready for the evening routine, bath, cuddle, bed – twice – once for each patient.

Suddenly, I felt like I was spinning.  Then, it hit me too. The three of us were sick – so very, very sick.  What a disaster.  You always hope that these things will space themselves out – but no luck in our case.  I’ve learned that it takes a special kind of strength that you pull from heaven-knows-where, to take care of a sick child while you yourself are feeling like death.  It wasn’t even a question – he came first.  My husband, on the other hand (and God bless him for it), was on his own.

We dragged ourselves to the doctor’s office the next day and were confirmed as having a Norwalk-type (if not Norwalk itself) virus. 

Short version:  Hubby and I got over it more quickly than Little Man – who was sick for nine agonizing days. Our place felt like a bio-hazard for a while there.  Several trips to both doctors and hospitals – even playing the Grandma card. She made the drive with no complaints.

Anyway, once we started to feel a little better, and could keep something down, the adults craved Pho – Vietnames rice noodle soup, with Vietnamese basil, lime and bean sprouts.  After the baby started feeling better, we indulged – he was able to enjoy it as much as we did.

I confess, we ordered out – but, had I felt a little better, I would have made my own.  In fact, for many days, while weakly clinging onto the walls as I walked, I imagined having the strength to make my recipe.

I would have put the following together:

Wrapped in some cheesecloth and tied off with a string – or in a tea diffuser

• 4 slices of ginger
• 2 cloves fresh garlic, smashed
• 2 tsp lemon rind, grated
• 1 tsp coriander seeds
• 2 cloves allspice

In the Soup

• 3 tbsp lime juice
• ½ onion, pulverized in the food processor
• 2 Tbsp fish sauce
• 6 cups chicken stock
• 2 cups of water
• 1 cooked chicken breast
• 3-4 cups cooked rice noodles
• 3 green onions, chopped

• Garnishes
• 1 lime, quartered
• Bean sprouts
• Fresh coriander
• Basil
• Hot sauce
• Hoisin sauce

Boil everything but the chicken and the noodles – including the spice bag – for about 5 minutes. Discard spice bag.

Slice chicken really thin.  Add to the boiling mix.  Add noodles to the mix and give it a minute or two. Serve with garnishes, so everyone can make theirs to taste.

Chicken noodle soup helps everything!

We’re all better now.  Thinking about getting my Pho stock ready for the next time and keeping it in the freezer.