(warning: this post mentions disgusting things like poop and puke. I will try to make it lighthearted and fun without making you gag. But I cannot promise anything. I'm living the disgustingness so it's only fair that you read about it, right? Much less messy for you on the other side of your computer screen, I promise.)
Tuesday morning:
Crappy night sleep. Cecelia is up at 10:30, and again from 3-4. My alarm is set for 4:30 to go to the gym. Want to die when it goes off. Pull myself out of bed at 4:45 when I hear Truman calling for daddy. Nate brings T into our bed as requested and I sneak away to the gym. It was a fabulous decision on my part. Fabulous.
I return home at 6 to see the dryer exhaust going outside of our house. Very odd. Then inside our kitchen is a big mop bucket and a towel. Panic sets in. Did Cecelia blow out a diaper? Did Henry crap on the floor? Nope. Nate comes down holding a very-awake Cecelia to say that Truman projectile vomited all over our bed. Like, a lot. While I was gone. Yes, the only time in his LIFE that he has truly puked and it was Nate that was the lone parent to deal. This is both hilarious and heartbreaking.
I think that possibly it could have been a fluke. Maybe he drank too much water too fast. But regardless, this is very scary to me as the parent who will be home with both children alone all day. I feel I may have payback for missing the action this morning. Lucky dad certainly seems scarred for life.
6 loads of laundry. 5 explosive diarrhea events (sometimes in the toilet, sometimes not). A low-grade fever. 1 beloved monkey that fell into a dirty potty. More laundry. Whiny-ness. Lethargy. Only wanting to lay on the couch and watch TV. Unable to play trains, so directing his mom around to do it without him.
Very sad. Very exhausting. Very worrisome. Meds did help bring down his fever and make him more comfortable, but the poo, you guys. The poo. Cecelia is a little fussy today, too, and she was also not herself at daycare on Monday. Please God, don't let her get this bug. Let my boy kick it fast.
Nate offers to take off Wednesday in the morning so I can see a few patients, since obviously Truman cannot go to daycare like this unless we expect Lori to keep him on the toilet all day. I am so tired.
Wednesday morning:
Can't remember what the sleep was like this night. Too tired. But I do remember that Truman woke at 5 am crying for his daddy again. And this time I heard him say, 'I pooped in my bed.' I will leave it at that. Not fun. Two mornings in a row waking up to bodily fluids and MORE laundry. Place your bets: what will be the first to breakdown? Our washer and dryer or my mental sanity? It's a close call.
I hurried through my two patients on Wednesday to get back home and grab the baton from Nate, who then left for his longer work day. (Who also happened to be the parent laying on the couch, talking himself out of being sick, at 6 am this morning. I thought he was a goner but he somehow pulled through.)
Cecelia napped for THREE FREAKING HOURS while I was gone. Truman napped for nearly four while I was home. Whiny-ness. Moments of lethargy followed by explosions of energy. No fever. More 'rhea. More panic from me---about work, about the rest of us catching this bug, and about my baby boy being really freaking sick. It could have been worse. At least he was able to play with his trains a bit this day. But it's just so concerning to have so many trips to the bathroom. By the end of the night I'm sure he had gone more than 10 times, the final three times being in the last hour before bed. What? I know. We eventually convinced him to let us put a cloth diaper cover on just to see if that would help save some undies. He was adamantly opposed to diapers all day and I kept telling myself that it would stop happening, so there was no need to diaper him up. But finally I got over the denial and the cloth cover should have come out 24 hours sooner.
Also? Cecelia almost choked on a shark in the bathtub. Yep. You know those spongy capsules that expand into an animal after being in water for a bit? Yeah. Those are not good chew toys for a baby. I saw her holding one and the aquatic life looked headless to me. I freaked out, did a finger swoop, and found the shark head nestled in my baby's mouth. Note to self: no more water-expanding-capsules for anyone around here. We do NOT eat spongy animals, Cecelia. And we need to baby-proof Truman's toy collection, too.
(During the monumental bath of near-disaster. It was a high moment for his energy levels, actually. And a MUCH needed bath for the king of stank)
Ahem. So, so tired. (notice a trend?)
Thursday:
No bodily fluids as an alarm this day! And Cecelia only woke once at 3 for a bottle then BOTH children slept until 7. Thank you for that gift, God. All was right with the world. I had no patients to see and we had the whole day ahead of us to focus on getting well. And then the 'rhea struck again at 9 am. I panicked (trend number two) knowing that there was no way he could go to Lori's on Friday now, which was the day I had planned to see a boatload of patients. I called Nate. I called my father-in-law. I called a bunch of patients. I scurried around the house to get myself presentable on a work day that wasn't happening just 45 minutes before I decided that it WAS happening. And we had a plan: Tony would come over to watch the kids for a few hours before Nate came home at 2 pm. Tony is an amazing grandpa but he has not had the pleasure of watching both kids alone. When one is sick. And one is quite particular about needing mommy at all times.
His stint of babysitting went surprisingly well. Both kids napped a bit. Both cried a bit. But everyone lived. I still have two outstanding patients to see that may need to be pushed until Saturday, but I am not working tomorrow. Because Truman had two MORE horrible toilet experiences (better words to use than diarrhea?) tonight. He's eaten a few pieces of toast today and drank some water. This child is going to wither away into the potty if the Bug of Doom continues much longer.
I called the Pediatrician just to hear reassurance that we were doing everything we could do. And sure enough, none of Truman's issues are especially shocking in a time when the flu is an 'epidemic'. But holy hell, this sucks. He had a few playful moments today and managed to sit upright on the floor a bit instead of being horizontal on the couch. I have hope that he is on the tail end of this wretchedness but I have been thinking that for the past 2 days now. I want to stop watching TV all.day.long with him. It's seriously rotting our brains but it's all the kid has the energy to do right now, and I don't blame him. Who doesn't want to curl up on the couch and watch the boob tube when they are sick, right?
Hearing, 'My tummy hurts, mommy. Hold me. I need you. Lay with me,' breaks my heart so much. I want him to feel better and to stop pooping his brains out. I want to wrap Cecelia up in a bubble to keep her well. And most of all I want to say: "Hey, flu-gods! Really sweet. Thanks for totally ruining the first week of our return-to-normal-schedule. I just love feeling like I have no control over anything at the moment. I love feeling torn between needing to be home with my boy and needing to work. Awesome. And I'm not tired at all, so go ahead and keep testing me. I'm totally down for it."
Sense my sarcasm there?
All of the families on our trip last weekend have been affected by this horribleness in one way or another. Apparently the internet says that water parks are cesspools for germs. Did not know this. So glad we could find out.
So that's that. Sick little boy over here, for the past three days. The doctor says they don't think twice about a stomach bug until it lasts 5-7 days. I can promise you that I will be a certified loon if it takes 2-4 more days of this garbage before things settle down.
I know life never really slows down anymore, but come on! Right after the holidays and our big family trip? Really?
Love you, cold and flu season. You can kiss it. Big time.
-This rapidly aging (tired) mom of two
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