You know those fun-filled all-night sleepovers with your kids where they're up projectile vomiting every thirty minutes and you have to change the kid's bedding and clothes so many times that you run out of clean bedding and clothes and the unbalanced washer is bouncing all over the laundry room (which happens to be across the hall from your bedroom) all night trying to keep up with the growing mountain of crap you keep throwing at it? We had one in our bedroom last night.
This was a few days after taking Soldier Boy to the ER one evening for the same thing. Apparently all the boys in this house have been trading this virus back and forth for about a week now. I'm hoping it's one of those "y-chromosome" viruses that doesn't affect the mother, because I can't afford to be sick while they are. Frankly, I can't afford to be sick ever.
Despite the roughly hour and a half or so of sleep that Soldier Boy and I got, I have to say that I am thankful for a few things, at least.
1. Soldier Boy was actually HOME to help with the mess. I did not have to hold the baby, clean the baby, change the baby's sheets, and urge him to drink some water all by myself. After three years of doing it myself, having the help made it almost easy. Almost.
2. Said baby (who is nearly four, by the way) does not sleep in our bed anymore. This is a fairly recent development, having occurred only about six months ago when we moved. (Don't judge me, he's the baby and everyone knows that by the time you've been schooled by several kids in nighttime battles, you just give in and let them sleep wherever they want so everyone can get some rest.) Thus, now when he gets sick, it's in his own bed and does not destroy ours. Toddler bed sheets are a lot easier to rip off and throw in the washing machine than queen-size ones. Moreover, we don't have to smell his vomit-scented breath in our faces or take a shower because he's thrown up all over US.
3. I am still a stay at home mom at this moment. This will be changing soon, but nights like last night make me grateful that I don't have to fake sick calling into work. Or worse, be threatened with involuntary termination if I don't go in, and cry and scream and sob in a desperate manner to find a non-psychotic person to come stay with the contagious baby so I can go to work and sulk and pout and feel guilty all day, all in the name of staying Employed.
4. The baby, although he is in his own bed, still sleeps in our room. We have been devising ways to evict him from our bedroom and out to his own room for awhile, but I just haven't had the balls to do it yet, because he sleeps pretty much peacefully in our room and I don't want to have to get up seventeen times every night to walk to the other end of the house to cover him back up, reassure him that it's not the end of the world, or help him to the bathroom. When he's sick, it is particularly convenient that he is in our room, because he's less than five feet from me and I can get to him quickly before he drags the vomit-covered blankie and jammies across the carpet and down the hall, crying and spewing. If he were in his own room, not only would I have to clean up THAT mess, but I would also have to bring him in bed with us so I could keep a close eye on him while he's sick, and then you're right back to the whole sick-baby-destroying-your-bed-and-breathing-vomit-breath-on-you scenario again. With him in OUR room, but in his OWN bed, it's the best of both worlds when he's sick.
5. It's a gray rainy day outside, so I don't feel like I should be out running errands or getting some exercise or being outside in general. Everyone knows that it's better to be sick (or nurse a sick person) when the weather is also sickly. That way, you don't feel like you're missing out on much.
6. I have a washing machine. I can't tell you how important this is when you have a sick kid. The washing machine is my favorite appliance pretty much all the time. I'm fond of the fridge, the oven, and the microwave as well, but dragging loads of smelly, messy clothes to a laundromat and 'washing' them in some equally dirty-looking machine that Bubba's wife probably used to wash the chicken shit out of his coveralls and skid marks out of his Hanes makes me want to simultaneously throttle someone and bathe myself in bleach. Thus, I (heart) my washing machine. Which I now have to go put another load of vomit blankets into.
About Me
- Soonerchick
- I have a Bachelor's in Psychology, a Master's in Human Relations, and a Ph.D. in telling people what to do. I raise children, dogs, cats, and hermit crabs and cultivate crabgrass and pretty weeds. I am teaching myself to cook, not because I love to cook but because I love to eat. I love to travel, read, and take pictures; I also like to write, so you'll get to read a lot about all the aforementioned subjects plus about anything else I happen to feel like sharing with you. I'll take all your questions and may even give some back with answers if you're lucky and I'm feeling helpful (or bored.)
I firmly believe that teen pregnancies would go waaay down if they had to experience two nights in a row like that. And they'd have to do once a month as a refresher course.
ReplyDeleteThat would make some successful birth control, methinks.
I heartily agree. Kind of like a "scared straight" program, except for preganancy instead of crime.
ReplyDeleteIncidentally, my sister asked for a hysterectomy for her birthday after my mother kept my boys at her house for three days while I was writing my thesis.