Monday I was going to meet a friend and her daughter for lunch at Mickey D's, so the kids could play and we could (hopefully!) talk... Notice I said was.
First of all, I had to wake Cullen up at 11:20. Not from a nap; that was after being in bed all night. His room smelled funny, but I thought Hubs had left a dirty diaper in there. There was a dirty diaper all right-- on Cullen's bottom. So I changed his diaper, got him dressed, and took him into the bathroom to brush his hair and teeth. And I smelled him again.
So we went back to his room, where I changed the second gloopy poopy diaper in 15 minutes. He didn't have fever, and didn't seem to be feeling bad, so we went to lunch. I didn't want to give him breakfast, since we would be eating lunch within minutes, so I just gave him a sippy cup of milk on the way.
We got there and tickled and played while we waited for my friend to arrive. Several people told him how cute he was. He started asking for french fries and a drink. We ordered, got our food, and went into the kids' area. He wouldn't eat, but just kept drinking his Sprite, which isn't too unusual, except for the fact that he hadn't eaten anything since he woke up. I thought he'd be starving.
He was walking around and playing on the slides, when, again, I smelled something. Yep. It was Cullen. I grabbed the diapers and wipes, and waited with him outside the restroom, when suddenly he starts saying, "No, Momma! No!" and looking panicked. I knew it was coming, but there was absolutely nothing around with which to catch it. He puked. An entire sippy cup full of milk. All over the floor. All over himself. All over his new shoes. And then stood there crying.
I went into the bathroom to clean him up (two messes, by this time) while my friend packed up our lunch for us. Then we headed home, a miserable, stinking, crying mess. And Cullen wasn't doing too well, either. ;)
That day, I think he threw up four or five times. I have no idea how many squishy diapers I changed. I bathed him three times, and had to wash his ganket about that often, too. When I went to put him down for a nap, I noticed his room still smelled funny. There was dried puke all over his bed. Poor baby. He must have gotten sick in the night. So I changed his sheets, washed another load of laundry that included multiple stuffed animals, and put him to bed.
Tuesday was pretty much a carbon-copy of Monday, with the exception of McDonald's, and the addition of Christian. She woke up complaining of a bad stomachache, so I kept her home. She was off-the-wall most of the day. Again, I ended up bathing Cullen three times, washing his ganket way too often, and put them both in bed early. Hubs worked late.
Today, I woke him up at 10:45. He was super cranky. And for being asleep for over 14 hours, his diaper wasn't nearly as wet as it should have been. Immediately he started crying for his milk and waffle, which he eats every. single. morning. Unfortunately, the toaster broke when Hubs tried to toast his bread this morning, so Cullen got a microwaved waffle. I really didn't want to give him anything, but he was adamant that he wanted milk and not the dreaded Pedialyte I've been trying to force-feed him. So I caved, and gave him the milk. Which he drank down immediately. And then threw up. And then began crying and asking for more milk. Ugh. I gave him a half-cup, and a mini donut, which he was begging for, and he actually kept it down.
But he was so lethargic and sleepy, and kept coming to me for snuggling and holding (which he never does! I'm not complaining, though!) so I put him down for a nap.
I called the doctor, and they said I could bring him in right then, so I got him out of bed, and took him. In his jammies. Mother of the Year, I'm saying.
I'm so proud of him; it's the first visit that he charmed the doctor and nurses. Usually he's screaming and crying so loud I can't hear half of what they're telling me. Today, he was thanking the nurse for taking his temperature, and every time the doctor moved the stethoscope around his chest, he'd thank him, too! He even gave the doctor high-fives.
Turns out, Cullen has a very contagious virus, and was about the seventh patient the doctor saw today with these symptoms. I'm to give him phenergan, and pedialyte as much as possible. He said it may take a week for him to get over it. Yippee. I can't tell you how much I love crawling around the floor, cleaning up vomit, at 38 weeks pregnant. Not to mention, the changing of the sheets and the washing of the laundry and the bathing of the toddler and the changing of the diapers. So. Much. Fun.
Tonight he woke up from his nap crying. He was inconsolable for a while, but gradually calmed down. Now all he wants are popsicles. And since we have a freezer full of pedialyte pops, and two more boxes in the pantry, I'm okay with that.
My stomach has been quite queasy the last two days. All I have to say is I better not get this crud. The last thing I need is to go into labor while kneeling over the toilet. Or while cleaning up puke.
You know all those popsicles he wanted? The pedialyte ones? He puked them up after his bath. After his bath. And after he got clean jammies for the night. Luckily, Hubs was the one he puked (and pooed) on this time. I just had to change the changing table cover.
Small victories, people. It's all about the small victories.