The hidden meaning behind the actions of Ivy

Ivy came downstairs from the playroom and curled up next to me on the chaise. "Mommy, I'm hungry." I looked at the clock and realized that yes, it was dinnertime for them.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"I dunno," she replied halfheartedly.

"Pizza? The kind you like?"

"Yeah." Ivy was apparently not her 1678038476 decibel self.

I went to the kitchen and pulled a frozen pizza out of the freezer. It baked, and I observed Ivy. She was laying placidly on the chaise where I had left her watching my shows and not complaining one bit. She looked sleepy, and I thought for a minute she might be trying to nap. So, I started babbling to her inanely about the TV, the playroom, anything to keep her awake. Dinner naps are NOT conducive to Mommy's good night sleep.

The oven dinged and I got the pizza out and sliced it. I would like to say that I served it up immediately, but I was distracted by a facebook friend who really needed my help with Fast Money. So, I did that, and then I served up the pizza. I made two plates complete with drinks in sippy cups, and yelled for Ivy to follow me upstairs. She didn't come. I was thinking, Oh no! Is she asleep?? I rushed, still carrying pizza laden plates, to the chaise where I saw for myself that she wasn't asleep, but she was defintiely zoning out. "COme on!" I urged. She followed me listlessly up the stairs to the playroom. I sat the plates down, and Ivy didn't sit behind hers. She went straight for the little Dora the Explorer couch and laid down.

"Ivy! What's wrong?"

"I'm sleepy."

"Honey, you have to eat! We can't go outside if you go to sleep!"

"Mommy, I don't wanna go outside." It was at that point that I knew something was seriously wrong. Ivy would go outside in the middle of a 115 degree heat wave. She go outside during a blizzard. She loves outside!

I asked a series of random questions that would tell me what was wrong. She finally said her stomach hurt. "Bad enough to 'spill hot dogs'?" I asked, using the "special code" for puking. She shook her head no, but I knew that didn't mean anything. Ivy would never admit she felt like puking because that might mean she would puke.

And I get so scared when the kids have the vomit-bug. not for them, but for me! I hate puking! When they feel like puking, they puke twice and are done with it. They run around and act like nothing was ever wrong. When I get the same bug, I spend 12 hours laying next to a toilet puking up everything I've eaten in the past month, followed by another 24 hours of being so dehydrated that I can't lift my head off of the couch. The entire house goes to heck around me and I can't do anything to stop it. The kids bounce on me, nobody knows where anything is, and I end up having to crawl to the kitchen to look for osmething.....nasty. So, it's terrible when I think she's getting a bug.

I brought her to the couch and made her lay down on topf of two layers of towels and blankets. I put a bowl on the floor on top of another towel. Maybe if she puked in the bowl, and I just didn't touch it except to dump it in the toilet I might be spared?

As she laid down, she asked, "Mommy, where's my pizza?"

"What? Ivy, you're sick!"

"But I'm hungry!"

So I gave it to her. Maybe I'll get puked on later. Maybe not. But I desperately do not want to spend my evening scrubbing pizza stains out of blankets and clothes....nor am I looking forward to my 36 hours of agony a couple days later.