Tips for Puking Kids

• Garbage bag, over the pillow, under the pillowcase.
  
• Mattress protectors: 10 bucks and half an hour of wrangling the thing on over the mattress, no scent of barf embedded in the mattress forever. Barf smell sucks.
  
• Cover the couch in towels, top with kid, keep a bucket handy.
  
• Lysol.
  
• Backup DVDs or a preschool cable channel is worth it when you're trapped in the house for 2 days.
  
• Have Sierra Mist, chicken soup, saltines and chocolate in the house at all times. (The chocolate is for me.)
  
• Buy a comforter that fits in your washer.
  
• Woolite Oxy Deep carpet cleaner works.
  
• When puked upon, remove clothing and get dressed again before trying to change her sheets. Half-asleep naked moms on Benadryl are not effective linen changers when shivering so hard we can't stand up.
  
• Be thankful you bought the mega-mini-van-jogging stroller so at least you can get out of the house for 20 minutes to walk the dog.
  
• Bake a cake to cover up the smell of puke. Eat the cake.

Sigh. She's recovered, thank goodness. And so far, no one else has caught it. Phew.

Milking It

Yep. She's figured it out. Not even 2, and she's already a little manipulator.

She's recovering from her cold. Still an occasional cough, a bit of a runny nose. The fever is gone, she's got plenty (WAY TOO MUCH) energy, and she's no longer dropping gross yellow solid snot bombs on my shoulders. She's eating better, and no longer needs to spend the entire day in my lap.

But this morning, she would NOT sit in her own chair to eat her breakfast. She wanted to sit in my lap, again, and have me feed her every bite. It's her favorite way to eat, and occasionally we indulge her, but try not to let it become a habit.

Well, I guess I indulged her once too often during the whole pee and snot fiasco. Woops.

But I won. YAY. (It doesn't happen often, so I'm celebrating.)

"Rowan, NO. No. You either eat in your chair, or you GO BACK TO BED."

(Repeat.)
(Repeat.)
(Repeat.)
(Repeat.)
(Repeat.)
(Repeat.)


"Fine. Back to bed."

I picked her up, and she clung to me, convinced she'd won. (Heh. Fooled her.)

I took her upstairs, set her in her crib and walked out.

1/2 a cup of coffee, 2 pieces of bread sent on the journey to Toastville, and one moment of please, please, please let this work later, I went back up.

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"

"Do you promise to eat your oatmeal like a good girl, in your own chair?"

"Promise! Eat! Oatmeal!"

I took it. And she was as good as her word.

Phew.

Baby Klingon

Rowan has never been a snuggly kid. Even as a little baby, she wasn't a cuddler. She would fight and kick if you held her too close, and though she wanted to be with you. At church, when she is taken to the nursery/play room, she runs in with barely a backward glance. She'll give you a hug or kiss goodbye, if you ask, but then shouts, "BYE!", waves, and heads toward the shelves filled with toys. While the other moms have to sit and play with their kids for 10 minutes until they are ready to be left alone, despite the fact that they go every week, I head back to the sanctuary, barely missing a minute.

A few months ago, we had an adult double date with some friends. A matinee and dinner, while the kids were being watched by our friends' daycare provider and her daughter. When we got back, Debbie commented on how much fun she'd had with Rowan, and that she'd love to watch her again.

"Most kids who stay at home with mom aren't very well-adjusted. Rowan is amazing! She had no problems with you leaving, made herself at home, and was a perfect angel. We had so much fun! She even brought a diaper and wipes over and asked when she needed her diaper changed." Rowan hadn't even noticed when I walked into the room, and didn't seem to care. She was too busy playing.

All this changes when she's not feeling well. Whether it's teething or a cold or a combination of the two (like now), she only wants to be with me. On top of me. All. The. Time. She refuses to eat, refuses to sleep, and panics when I close the door to use the bathroom. My shoulders are streaked with snot, and I have a 25 1/2 pound barnacle cemented to my torso.

Yesterday, she was in full sick-mode. Up in the night, with a refusal to sleep again unless Mom or Dad slept with her (I took the night before, Dr. B took that night). She was coughing, sneezing, and her upper lip had become Rio del Snotto. We raised the legs of the crib (Harry Potter 4 & 7), turned on the vaporizer, and gave her a little Motrin before bed.

I'm afraid our remedies worked too well. Yesterday, she was awake for 14 hours straight. No naps except for a 10 minute snooze in the stroller on our walk. Though she would stop and sit on the couch for a while, drinking juice, that was the extent of her rest.

And mine.

Bedtime came, and I got her ready. She called out a cheerful "Bye!" as I left, blowing kisses.

Then it started. Screaming. Crying. Wailing.

For the next hour, I let her go. Then gave in and went to talk with her. Then let her cry. Then her dad came home and tried, too. And then he left her room and it started again.

Finally, after an hour and a half, I did what I had to. I went up, and she begged me to pick her up. I hugged her as she stood, arms raised in her crib, and let her cry on my shoulders. But I didn't pick her up. I tried to reason with her.

It didn't work.

Finally, I asked her to sit. She refused. I sat next to the crib. She sat, so she could see my face, and reached through the bars of the crib for another hug. Then she put her hands on either side of my face, and pulled me close for a jailbird kiss.

We sat, and I talked to her in a low, soothing voice. About letting her body heal. About resting so she can play and have fun tomorrow. About how much I loved her.

Her eyes started to droop.

I asked her to lie down. She shook her head, violently, "No no no no nooooo!!!" I offered my arm for her to lie on.

She face planted on my hand, butt in the air. I slowly wiggled my arm out. She grasped my hand.

I waited. Soon, she was twitching, exhausted and deeply asleep. I extracted my fingers from her sweaty grip and crawled slowly toward the door.

Though she may not show it every day, our independent little girl needs us. It may be hidden, but it's still strong.

H-E- double hockey sticks

Well, it's over. What is not-so-affectionately called Hell Week in Dr. B's department due to three banquets, countless lectures, and lots of clapping and fake smiling for awards for people you've never met. Salmon, steak, salmon and steak, and steak and some sort of fish that wasn't salmon. Rolls with so much rosemary they tasted like Pine Sol. Learning to make a bishop's hat with my place card because I was so bored during the lecture on petroleum-in-Oklahoma BUT IT'S DIFFERENT BECAUSE IT'S SHALE AND SOME SORT OF *SPECIAL* SHALE AND THEY HAVE TO DRILL SIDEWAYS!!! WOOO EEEE!!! (ugh.) And of course that was the night where the ever-so-generous oil companies didn't pay for any wine. Three different dressy outfits because there is overlap with all of the banquets, three days of shaving my legs and cutting myself repeatedly because I'm a klutz, two babysitter nights (requiring a somewhat-clean house) and one playdate. But, having a babysitter meant we could linger afterward and have a glass of wine with friends, which we enjoyed immensely.

And now? Rowan has a bear of a cold, because her playdate playmate is a daycare boy, and that's just what happens. Poor little bug is congested, hoarse, and not sleeping well. Thus, we are not sleeping well. I took the first night, Dr. B took last night, but he doesn't have Mommy-radar, so I heard her every time she cried before he did, even though he was sleeping with her in his arms in her bedroom. And then Lucy decided she needed a walk at 1:30 AM. BECAUSE WE'RE ALL UP ANYWAY! Party time at the Brownsons'!

Last night, we finally got her to sleep around 9 and pulled out the movie I had run to rent after supper (from our video store which is closing and we're not very happy about that.)

We spent the next hour and a half searching for the remote because we can't hit play on the DVD player without it. Moving couches. Pulling out cushions. Checking every drawer and cabinet. We never found it. Finally, around 10:30 we gave up and watched an episode of Red Dwarf before going to bed.

Dr. B has a lecture to go to tonight, and another reception, so he'll be home a bit later than normal. I think I'll watch Juno on my laptop. Maybe we'll find the remote by the time she goes to Kindergarten.

Still Sick, but Surviving.

Last night was long, but at least we did get some sleep. At 8, I put the baby to bed, and went to brush my teeth. I was washing my face when she started to cry, and she kept it up while I moisturized and put on my jammies. I picked her up, and climbed into the guest bed in her room. She fell asleep in my arms, and despite waking up several times during the night for snot suck-outage, nasal drain lifts, retuckings, pacifier taps, and just general "it's OK, Mommy's right here" soothings, we did get some sleep.

Rowan's fever is still up there, but at least it's only hovering between 99-102. She was still fussy and clingy today, but had stretches where she'd play by herself, allowing me to clean the bathrooms and do some loads of towels (which helped my mental state a lot.) I still feel tough, but a little less hideous than yesterday, and the state of the house was really starting to get to me. We laid down together for a nap at 2:30, and by 2:45 she was sleeping, so I decided it would be OK for me to close my eyes, too, rather than sneak out and vacuum.

We woke up at 5:10.

Oops.

Dr. B had planned to be home early, but got involved in his work and didn't make it until nearly 6, but since we had been sleeping, it was OK. He took over, feeding her yams, tofu and applesauce, strapping her to his hip when she didn't want to be set down, and playing with her while I headed to the grocery store for much needed supplies and to pick up some dinner (again ordered by him. I don't think he appreciated the burnt gravy last night--or should I say no gravy.) I made sure to pick up some stuff that I wouldn't have to think about to cook, like a frozen pizza and a frozen lasagna, just in case. When I got home, he had put her to bed.

And she's still asleep. Alone in her crib. Hallelujah.

Maybe I'll get to sleep in my bed tonight.

Awake and Alive

It turns out that a 72-hour flu in a little person is only a 24-hour flu in a big one. Conversion rate, I guess, or I got the concentrated version. Regardless, I am thankful it's over. As soon as she was tucked in and snoozing last night, I also hit the hay, and after approximately 12 hours of sleep, I feel much better.

Dr. B, however, is on the road to ruin. He's been so busy at work, he got 2 hours of sleep last night, and 3 hours the night before. Anyone that knows him personally knows he is a 9-hour guy. He's always needed more sleep than I have, so I'm pretty worried about him. I'm glad he takes the bus to work--I wouldn't want him driving in this sleep-deprived condition, with the icy roads leftover from the storm earlier this week.

We're postponing our Valentine's celebration until we're both conscious (and he has a chance to get a little something for me--he felt really awful that he didn't have anything prepared.) The steaks will keep, and we'll celebrate on our terms. It is a nice break in a dreary winter to have a holiday this time of year, but we believe in making them fit our schedule.

Now, we all need baths. Big time.

Gift

Rowan gave her Mama a present for Valentine's Day. She didn't mean to, but how can you blame an 8 month old baby for giving you the flu?

You know you're sick when the smell of toast and coffee, normally my favorite smells ever, makes you vomir partout.

Luckily, I have a friend who's coming over in a few hours to bring me some 7up and walk Lucy. This is not something I am capable of today, and the Diet Coke I got yesterday just doesn't cut it when I'm sick.

I am not looking forward to the poopy diapers today. Ugh.

Excuse me. The couch is calling my name.

Push it

Hangin' with Dad, originally uploaded by MrsBinParis.

Rowan's last big puke was at 1:30 AM. Right after nursing, she unloaded the full meal back on to my pajama top. No harm done, a quick change and wipe down and we were both back to sleep.

Today, we took it easy. Nursing only for her, and 2 morning naps. I got a few tasks done (bathrooms both cleaned, sheets changed, insurance stuff done, filing), but mainly took care of my little girl. Late in the afternoon, I rocked a hole in the floor trying to coax her into an afternoon nap. Unfortunately, she was stronger than I was, and refused to go down, but did spend some quality time with me vegging on the big bed watching King of the Hill and That 70's Show. You know, educational TV.

By 7 PM, I figured we were past the worst of it. 18 hours, no vomiting. We must be in the clear! She was energized, happily playing in her play station, so I put a handful of Cheerios in the snack tray and opened my laptop to dig into my 6 ongoing Scrabulous games.

By 7:30, I had learned my lesson.

Oh, and Lucy has a taste for things other than the content of diapers.

Sigh. Here we go again.

Thankful

Dr. B often jokes that "we" didn't have a baby. No, he says, "you budded." She is like me in so many ways. Pale skin, blonde hair, blue eyes. Relaxed? Not so much. High highs, and low lows. Lives for music. Likes lots of warm blankets when she sleeps, with her arms raised above her head, and does a full-body stretch just as she's waking up. Gets really fussy if she's bored. Loves to go shopping. Has stinky feet.

Of course, she's like him in other ways. Loves the bath. Hates change. Loves prunes. And one new way that I'm really thankful for today.

When she barfs, she smiles. Relaxes. Feels better.

Me? Not so much.

Dealing with our first stomach bug here. I should have known. Brilliant me, on the phone with my stepmother.

"Yeah, I suppose it's because she doesn't go to daycare, but Rowan really hasn't been sick at all. A little stuffy nose, but other than that, she's been fine."

12 hours later we had projectile vomiting.

Of prunes.

Sigh.






*Note: due to this, the grocery trip will have to wait, so Menu Plan Monday will probably not be that interesting. Happily, we were invited to a friend's home on Saturday, so I didn't make the enchiladas then and still have all the stuff. I think I can also cobble together a meatball dinner and some pesto pasta with shrimp. Since Dr. B has a meeting on Wednesday, this could get us through until Thursday! Hopefully the puking will be done by then.