|How could so much poop and puke |
come out of someone so little?
Monday morning, Kellen awoke angry, pulling on his ears, and with a low-grade temp. I knew it had to be an ear infection. I just didn't anticipate it being a DOUBLE ear infection. A few hours later, we had visited the pediatrician and I was at Target getting his antibiotic filled at the pharmacy. Kellen was asleep in his stroller and I was able to meet up with a friend for a quick lunch before heading home. She said "you know it will give him diarrhea" - this turned out to be an understatement. Kellen had the green-apple squirts from nearly the first moment his lips touched the pink pasty gooey medicine.
And it leaked through every diaper I strapped to his bum. I texted friends begging for advice on diapers. My older ones are eight and six and so it's just been years of missing out on diaper development and improvement. I tried the Pampers Cruisers. I should have just wrapped his booty in a few dollar bills for as well as they worked. Money down the drain. And the laundry! It was never-ending. And the sounds. The explosions erupting from his derriere were like cannons. He tolerated it well. I did not. But luckily by Wednesday it had started to subside and I had also found a diaper that could withstand the attacks.
However, by Wednesday afternoon, my left eye was suspiciously leaking fluid and was reddened. I convinced myself it was a corneal laceration, probably from accidentally brushing makeup into it. On Thursday I awoke and it was redder and more swollen and more leaky. I went to a training at work to get my ACLS (Advanced Cardiac Life Support) re-certified. Everyone there saw my eye and avoided me like the plague. I managed to squeak up to the ER and have one of the docs look at me before I had to leave to get the baby from daycare and he told me it was pinkeye. Oh, the dreaded pinkeye! The type of nasty disease you pass from one to another so easily. My husband calls it poop-eye. One bottle of eyedrops later and I was picking up the baby.
I got home and all but incinerated every towel in the house (a huge transmitter of pinkeye - using someone else's towel, which the kids do all the time). I threw away all my eye makeup. I used the drops like a madwoman.
By Saturday my eye was better. And (I hate to even write this, because it may be too soon to do a victory dance)...not one of the kids got the poop-eye.
Saturday afternoon Abby told me her tummy hurt. I got her some Pepto Kids and gave her a dose. Along with some Sprite for the yucky tummy. About 30 minutes later I heard "Mommy I still don't feel so good", followed by heaving and the dreaded puke sound. In the living room. She hit the ottoman and the floor. Not the couch. Good girl. She ran to the sink and made it to bring up the rest of the pink and chunky goo. She had a fever. I had Zofran on hand and just one dose kept her from puking any more that night. She was able to tolerate a few tylenol tabs and I congratulated myself for being such a good mommy nurse (a rarity).
|Distinctive Robin Egg Blue Box.|
Gorgeous Tiffany Crystal.
Only party it will ever see
is in the garbage can.
And then...I was in the basement tackling yet more laundry. I noticed some bubble wrap on the floor. Actually a lot of bubble wrap. Owen was down there and I asked him about it. He said he and his friend Danny had found it in the blue box on the shelf. My heart sank. Blue box...as in Robin Egg Blue Tiffany's Box...with my gorgeous crystal bowl in it. I opened it, praying for a miracle. The bowl is no longer a bowl. It's worthless shattered crystal. I have so few adult treasures, and this was one of them. I had never used it. I had planned to bring it out when we moved overseas and (I know this is just dreaming, but it was a fun dream) hosted a fun party. It was an item I had saved for entertaining, and now it will never be used. Crushed. My silly little dream was crushed just like that. Owen felt bad and I wasn't mad at him (no kid can resist bubble wrap - I'll give him that), but it was painful.
I took some laundry upstairs and then....stepped in dog poop. At the top of the stairs, our chihuahua had left me an unwelcome gift. I nearly had a meltdown. Thankfully, it was on the hardwood and an easy clean (he is a little dog, so it's just a little poo), but the timing was terrible. It was all I could do to get the kids into bed. We called Jason and he gave them Daddy tuck-ins over the phone. They fell right to sleep. I went downstairs to drown my sorrows in chocolate, and there was none to be found. Just one single little 60-caloried chocolate-flavored Jello Mousse cup. Sad. I had hoped to find a lone Hershey's Kiss or a Peanut Butter Cup in the freezer. But no. I got a sugar-free jello.
And getting to this morning. Ragged after the week that was. Kellen woke up early (6AM) and I fed him. He was overly excited to eat and downed the bottle way too fast. I saw it coming, heard it coming, and all I could do was hold him while he heaved nearly six ounces all over himself and me. I wiped him up, changed his jammies and tucked him into the [miracle] swing. I changed my clothes, and crawled under a cozy blanket on the couch for an extra few zzz's.
Now the kids are up, and I can smell the baby vomit on myself. I'm going for a shower. My pinkeye is all but gone, Abby is feeling better, Rusty (our chihuahua) is doing his business OUTSIDE, and Kellen is still blissfully asleep in the swing.
But that beautiful bowl is still broken.