Friday morning, I was hustling around getting ready for work, late as usual. Jon was helping me get Logan ready, feeding him in bed. When all of a sudden I heard him yell "GODDAMNIT. SHIT! FUCK! SHIT!"
You never like to hear Jon cursing angrily from the other room, especially when your baby is in his arms.
I run in to find Logan, Jon and most of the bed, SOAKED in milky puke. I told him to calm down, it's just a little milk.
J: Yeah right - he PUKED on me!!
B: Jon. It's just a little milk. He didn't even have a chance to digest it yet.
J: But it got all over my pants and on my leg. Ugggghhhh.
B: Just be thankful it wasn't a crotchful of diarrhea.
Ahhh, so goes most conversations about general baby caring, in our household these days. Guess who's the more squeamish of us two? ;-)
Anyway - I changed Logan, rushed around to finish getting ready, shoved a few Cheerios in his mouth to get something in his stomach and dropped him off at school - yelling to the teachers on my way out "oh yeah, he hasn't really eaten much today because he threw everything up and if he continues or gets worse, just give me a call", as the door slammed shut right behind me.
I'm at work for no more than 20 minutes when my cell lights up with the school's name.
I duck out of my meeting to answer the call and sure enough, Logan wasn't getting any better. He continued to puke up whatever they tried feeding him and was only able to keep down an ounce of milk before passing out. I told them since he was sleeping, I'd stay at work a bit longer and check in later after my next meeting. A few check ins later, he finally woke from his nap, having puked up the one ounce he had just before falling asleep. And, he had a minor temperature (99.7), so I said I'd be right there and packed up my stuff to go.
Of course, when I came to pick Logan up, he was his usual cheery smiley self, no indication of being sick whatsoever. But, I took him home anyway. I was really concerned about the lack of fluids in his system, so I gave him some Pedialyte once we got home, in small doses, every 15-30 minutes, watching him carefully in between feedings. Luckily, he didn't have any more vomiting spells and was quite content just hanging out with mom, playing with his toys or crawling around the house. You'd never know he was sick earlier that day! (I did call the doctors and they said a stomach virus has been going around)
Saturday he continued to behave just fine, other than being out of it during our early morning visit to The Little Gym. I, on the other hand, was feeling a bit crummy, and worse as the day progressed. I thought perhaps it was just a lack of sleep, since I got up early that morning and never went back to bed (like I usually do when I put Logan down for his morning nap), so I took a nap before dinner. When I woke, I wasn't feeling any better - mostly queasy and super nauseous.
We had dinner plans with the Hicksons and Jodoins at Habana Cuba that I had been waiting for all week, so I was determined to go, dismissing my uneasiness for hunger instead. Unfortunately, I couldn't have been more wrong. Literally, the minute my food was set in front of me, a WAVE washed over my entire body. Not the good, this is an awesome killer wave let's ride it all the way back to the shore type of wave. No, it was the bad, you are SICK and I'm taking over your entire body with SICKNESS so you might as well wish you were dead type of wave.
I broke out into an unbelievable rapid sweat and chills with a feeling that I needed to puke RIGHT NOW. I stumbled to the bathroom, sat on a chair with my head between my legs for about 20 minutes before finally feeling better. When I got back to the table, I had a couple bites of dinner only to get that same wave of nausea wash over me again. We were getting ready to leave soon so I just stuck it out, looking lame with my head between my legs, taking deep breaths and watching the sweat trickle down my chest.
I vaguely remember someone (Jenn?) commenting that I could be pregnant.
SHE BETTER NOT BE Jon said.
Jon put me to bed with some saltines and Gatorade and I stayed there, curled up in a little ball moaning all night long, switching between cold sweats, chills and shakes to burning up super hot get this smothering blanket off of me. But, without a fever or any abnormal temperature at all. Jon, unfortunately, caught whatever bug Logan and I have, in the middle of the night as well. So, the three of us (and mostly Jon and I it seems!) have been in pretty sad shape all day today, fighting nausea, diarrhea, achiness, headaches (probably from the lack of food), you name it. No fun.
And, what has been MOST challenging about this more than the illness itself, is the caring for Logan while we're both under the weather. I think if just one of us was feeling a little uneasy and not well, it'd be another thing entirely. But, when the two of us are completely incapacitated like we have been last night and today, it's all we can do to make a bottle, shove it in his mouth, and pray he gobbles it down and falls right back to sleep.
It's weekends like these where I'm just starting to realize what the impact of having a child in your house will do - once he gets sick, we get sick. Once one of us gets sick, the kid gets sick. It's a never-ending vicious cycle.
Logan actually did really well today, all things considered. Mostly he's just been bored because we've been trying to entertain him in bed since the two of us haven't left the bedroom save to feed the dogs/cats and do a Gatorade/Pepto Bismol run. And you wonder why the kid who just learned how to crawl is bored when all he can see are the tempting cool things that are all on the ground that he could be putting in his mouth instead. He's also been more cranky than usual (what a surprise, he's sick!) and started having a few diarrhea diapers which Jon had the luck of discovering at 5:30 early this morning, right about when he was starting to really get sick himself.
Let's just say I heard a few more expletives coming from Logan's room early this morning in my achy nauseous woozy haze. And, later found dried poop smeared all over the changing pad reminding me why maybe he was muttering those expletives so early in the morning.
When he's not groaning in the bed next to me, Jon has been living in the bathroom most of the day, poor thing. We've both been guzzling down Gatorade and nothing else, which I'm sure is going to wreak havoc on my diet. But, I'm finally feeling a tad bit better, and looking at the clock, it took about 24 hrs before I could get anything "substantial" in my stomach (Top Ramen to the rescue!).
I guess that means Jon will be ready for some blueberry pancakes about 5:30 tomorrow morning?