Bleh
So in yet another experiment in confirming the viral basis of infectious disease, we have decided to welcome the "stomach flu" into our lives.
Poor Colin imported it Tuesday, for which I blame the public school system. It actually led to a bit of a scare as he had severe cramps that started high in his belly and then started to descend, according to Lilian, my mother-in-law, who was home with him. He was actually on the floor writhing in pain and sobbing at one point, causing me to almost take off on foot to cover the 40 miles to home, when Charles arrived to pick me up. During the tense drive, I reviewed all I could remember of appendicitis and other abdominal horrors to pass the time. Fortunately, when we arrived, he was sleeping peacefully and his belly was nice and soft.
2 nights later, I was awakened at 11pm by the horrible sound of Sara screaming and sobbing in her room. Opening the door, the smell of stomach contents told me what was the matter. Clean up sobbing baby, clean up mess, start load of wash consisting of stuffed animals, sheets, and blankets. Slug out to living room with entire contents of linen closet to cover chair and catch the remaining stomach contents that will arrive in short order. Curl up with little viral assembly-line Sara, still with eau-d'spew in her hair. Put on 1st disc of Blues Clues. 2 hours later, she is still awake and pukey. Put on 2nd disc of Blues Clues. 2 more hours later, she is still awake but no longer pukey. At 3:30 the heavens open and the angels sing and Charles emerges, awake because he has insomnia. Hahahaha! Flee to bed with his final words in my ears, "Just so you know, I have to leave in less than 2 hours."
As I stumble out to regain stewardship of my now sleeping daughter, I find she dropped off in no time for her dear old dad. And his secret? Not Blues Clues, that's for sure. ESPN and a 1973 football game. He bored her to sleep. Bastard. Well, we both know who loves you best, Baby. The one who endured 7 episodes of Blues Clues in a row.
So, this morning, the virus has landed it's parting shot at Charles and I. Tonight, when we curl up in front of the TV, I am holding the remote. I shudder to think what he would put on in a mistaken effort to send me to sleep. 1956 hockey quarterfinals, anyone? Or shall we make it Holland v Belgium in the Rugby World Cup? Curling?
Poor Colin imported it Tuesday, for which I blame the public school system. It actually led to a bit of a scare as he had severe cramps that started high in his belly and then started to descend, according to Lilian, my mother-in-law, who was home with him. He was actually on the floor writhing in pain and sobbing at one point, causing me to almost take off on foot to cover the 40 miles to home, when Charles arrived to pick me up. During the tense drive, I reviewed all I could remember of appendicitis and other abdominal horrors to pass the time. Fortunately, when we arrived, he was sleeping peacefully and his belly was nice and soft.
2 nights later, I was awakened at 11pm by the horrible sound of Sara screaming and sobbing in her room. Opening the door, the smell of stomach contents told me what was the matter. Clean up sobbing baby, clean up mess, start load of wash consisting of stuffed animals, sheets, and blankets. Slug out to living room with entire contents of linen closet to cover chair and catch the remaining stomach contents that will arrive in short order. Curl up with little viral assembly-line Sara, still with eau-d'spew in her hair. Put on 1st disc of Blues Clues. 2 hours later, she is still awake and pukey. Put on 2nd disc of Blues Clues. 2 more hours later, she is still awake but no longer pukey. At 3:30 the heavens open and the angels sing and Charles emerges, awake because he has insomnia. Hahahaha! Flee to bed with his final words in my ears, "Just so you know, I have to leave in less than 2 hours."
As I stumble out to regain stewardship of my now sleeping daughter, I find she dropped off in no time for her dear old dad. And his secret? Not Blues Clues, that's for sure. ESPN and a 1973 football game. He bored her to sleep. Bastard. Well, we both know who loves you best, Baby. The one who endured 7 episodes of Blues Clues in a row.
So, this morning, the virus has landed it's parting shot at Charles and I. Tonight, when we curl up in front of the TV, I am holding the remote. I shudder to think what he would put on in a mistaken effort to send me to sleep. 1956 hockey quarterfinals, anyone? Or shall we make it Holland v Belgium in the Rugby World Cup? Curling?
Labels: Marvelous Charles
posted by Diana at 10:00 AM
4 Comments:
I am not quite sure what could be worse - the stomach flu or outdated sports events! Both are lacking in suprise "endings", that's for sure!
Hey Cagey,
You had your own duking it out with the crud a little bit ago. Thanks for the sympathy and I hope you are feeling better. At least the stomach stuff leaves faster than the sinus stuff!
OK. I am going to stop complaining about my only slightly more than minor cold. Let's see: No stomach cramps; no vomiting; no kids to take care of when I'm feeling sick; and most of all no Blues Clues to endure. Holy Crap!
You are a saint!
Ah, but Rozanne, I am now ALL BETTER and eating food that is bad for me again. I suspect you are still suffering, poor honey. And the antidote to the Blues Clues marathon: Just say the mantra, "At least it is not Barney. At least it is not Barney."
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