This year the hubs ran the marathon and the bean got the flu.

The crazy part- these two events happened to us in the same span of three hours. Sweet, right?

 I thought we were pretty well in the clear- three flu shots, sore arms and November to April behind us.  I may have even done a little celebratory dance. But that bug is a persistent S.O.B.

 

Sunday the Hubs and MIL ran the Pittsburgh Half, and just like last year Grayson, Mommy and Grandpap were there to cheer them on.

 

It was pretty chilly, and when this picture was taken it was a whopping 5:50 AM- so we must really love Daddy. By the time we made it over to the start corrals Grayson was passed out in his stroller, snug as a bug in a rug. 

 

 

We took our final run fast its cold out here pictures and headed off to see them at the first checkpoint of the course. As we are sitting waiting for them and 30K of our closest friends to run by, Grayson was peacefully sleeping in his stroller.  Like a good Mommy I had a change of clothes with two extra shirts and an extra hoodie and a full pack of baby wipes in the diaper bag, but I really didn't anticipate needing anything in the short 3 hours we would be downtown. I guess that would be naive moment number two.

 

After watching the race leaders fly by I looked down to see this sweet sight-

 

 

and that's when it all went to hell in a hand basket.  Not thirty seconds after taking this picture my sweet boy woke up and projectile vomited all over himself, the blanket and his stroller.

 

I immediately fly into Mommy mode- taking him out of the stroller, comforting him and I passed him off to Grandpap. I broke out the wipes and extra clothes and we set out cleaning off the baby and the stroller.  Once I got the stroller cleaned and Pap got the kiddo changed into dry clothes we kind of pushed the stroller over the pile on the sidewalk and I started walking looking for a trashcan to toss the huge pile of wipes in my hands.  No dice.  Thanks to the bombings in Boston- every trashcan was removed from the course, and I had to walk two blocks off the beaten path to find one.  Super.

 

I made it back to the kiddo, who was sitting on the bridge rail laughing hysterically at all of the people running by and chalked it up to getting motion sick on the T (Pittsburgh's sad excuse for a subway system).  We saw Daddy and high fived him, then set off to our next stop. 

 

We stopped to get some doughnuts (its tradition, after all) and while we were waiting Grandpap was holding Grayson showing him all the busyness of the Strip.  That's when sicky round two struck- all down Pap's shoulder. All I could think was how I was out of clean clothes as I set out scrubbing down a baby and my FIL with more baby wipes.

 

Now, our car is stuck- we literally can not leave until they finish the race due to closed roads. I'm out of clean clothes for the baby, and now my FIL has puke all over him as well. It was a crap shoot for sure. By the time the hubs would cross the finish line, Grayson would have had two more experiences retching all over the place. Literally the second they crossed the finish line we were there saying "Eat your banana and get a move on."

 

I was so grossed out at that point that I didn't even take a picture of the hubs with his medal after he finished. Wife fail. I am super proud of him, but I just didn't love him enough to take a picture with him in my current state of ickyness.

 

We spent the next 72 hours getting sick pretty much around the clock and sleeping on the bathroom floor with a sicky baby. In fact, we were so worried about the bean that we didn't even realize that Patrick had something seriously wrong with his foot after the race. A quick trip to MedExpress last night revealed a stress fracture was the culprit, and they sent him home with a fancy boot and orders to see a podiatrist.

 

This year's Marathon was nothing but problems- next year, I think I'm skipping the whole thing and staying in bed.