Showing posts with label barf. Show all posts
Showing posts with label barf. Show all posts

Thursday, April 3, 2014

The Invention of Lying Down Games

A couple of weeks ago I had a really rough bout of the stomach flu.  For just over 24 hours, all I could do was sleep, toss my cookies, or writhe around in bed with horrible stomach pains and moan.  I am not exaggerating.  And it took me the better part of a week once that part was over to really feel 100% back to my old self.

In that time, I had to get through a few (mercifully short-lived) times when I was alone with my kids and feeling ill or exhausted.  Enter the invention of lying. down. games.

Through my delirious haze, I somehow managed to convince my kids that it would be really fun to pretend Mommy was a sleeping dragon under the blanket on the couch, and they had to tiptoe around the dragon's cave.  If they were too noisy, the dragon would wake up and make them run laps from the living room to the kitchen.  (In previous, more energetic iterations of the this game, the Mommydragon would tickle them as punishment for their noisiness, but this time the Mommydragon didn't even have the strength for that.) 

Shockingly, they ate it up.  Lilah is still asking to play this game, and my inner Mommydragon is only too happy to oblige.  I'm sure it won't be much longer before she figures out how little effort it requires on my part.  But hey, as long as they're safe and having fun, it passes as parenting, right?

Have you invented any good lying down games I can add to my repertoire for the next time I find myself solo parenting through illness?

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Vomitous

*This blog contains graphic descriptions of a family dealing with a nasty stomach virus.  Reader discretion is advised*

Hi, it's me.  I haven't been around much lately, I know.  There's a good reason for that.

What's that smell, you ask?  Sorry.  It's kinda been following me around since last Monday.  It might be the smell of the contents of our fridge rotting since it's barely been touched in the past week.  Or it could be vomit.

Lilah brought us home a little present last Monday.  It was... (in best Price is Right voice) a lovely stomach bug!!!  And when Miss Lilah has a tummy ailment, she doesn't rest until all the contents of her stomach are strewn across our apartment.  Oh, and she also marks the hallway and front steps of our apartment building as her territory too, just for good measure.

So that was the beginning of last week.  I stayed home with her on Tuesday, and the Hubs took the day off to look after her on Wednesday.  It was kind of a relief to go to work on Wednesday knowing that she was starting to turn the corner and her daddy was looking after her.  And once I had showered the vomit out of my hair, I was feeling pretty spiffy and ready to be a speech therapist again, as opposed to playing the role of barf-cleaner-upper I had on Tuesday. 

But apparently I started celebrating too soon.  My first appointment of the day?  An adorable four-year-old boy.  He and his mother rush in, slightly distraught at being 10 minutes late due to traffic.  No sooner do they get in the door then he upchucks in the front entrance/waiting area.  While his mom is busy cleaning him up in the bathroom, someone has to deal with the chunks in the waiting room.  When I saw one of our admin staff members jump right in - with gloves on, of course - and it happened to be her birthday, poor woman - I strapped some gloves and got down to work too.  I'd been dealing with it for the past two days anywayBut that's when I started to suspect that the vomit might be following me around.

Lilah seemed to be recovering, and when neither the Hubs or I had come down with it by Saturday, I figured we were in the clear.  One thing I have learned in my 17 months as a parent is that, as soon as you think you are in the clear for anything, the universe will mock you.  Sunday night I started feeling a little woozy and achy and by midnight I knew I would be calling in sick on Monday.  I may gloss over the details here, because nobody wants to hear about the inner workings of my digestive system, but let me just tell you, this was one nasty bug.  And then of course Lilah, who had been okay for four whole days, randomly puked all over the Hubs after he picked her up from daycare that afternoon.

My many warnings to the Hubs to eat bland food in case he, too, should come down with this horrid bug went unheeded.  The man thinks he is invincible.  Seriously, any reference to illness or injury has him assuring me that he is Wolverine of the X-men.  Sure enough, 4:30 am on Wednesday saw him sprinting to the bathroom gagging and sorely regretting his decision to eat nothing but hummus and chocolate for dinner on Tuesday.

Now it is the weekend again and the Hubs and I are back to gorging ourselves on the rich food of the season.  Lilah, having actually learned something from the whole experience, is still studiously avoiding any food that happened to be in her tummy at the onset of each episode, which, let's be honest, was pretty much all her regular foods and stand-by meals.  Which means she is currently essentially living off mac 'n' cheese and breast milk.

And now, almost two weeks after the whole debacle started, I'm finally starting to shake the vomit smell from my nostrils.  Sweet baby Jesus, I think I can smell the candy canes and gingerbread again!

Got any vomit stories you'd like to share?  Tell me in the comments, and don't worry if it's gross -  I have a strong stomach (most of the time)!

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