I love having kids, but I hate it when they get sick. It's even worse when they get me sick as well. For years growing up, I really didn't get sick or miss much school. I think I was sick like 1 day in all of elementary school (truly--I remember being annoyed about that one day when several fellow 5th graders got awards for perfect attendance). I've been sick more often since Charlotte was born (since she started at daycare, actually), than I think I have in the previous 15 years.
Thursday when I picked up the kids there was a note on Trystan's classroom door about cases of stomach flu. Apparently he picked it up as well, and gave it to me. Saturday afternoon I tried to sneak away from the house for a couple of hours while everyone was napping and do some kid-free shopping and relaxing. About an hour later, I started not feeling so hot. After one quick trip to the nearest restroom, I gave up and drove home. Saturday evening was not fun--my stomach completely cramped up, and everything I'd eaten all day leaving by the nearest exit. No one else was sick (yet), so I was afraid it was actually food poisoning from a hamburger I ate at a festival earlier in the day.
Sunday morning, Trystan started throwing up. Babies and stomach issues are always a cause for concern, but even more so when the baby in question has needed emergency surgery after flu-like symptoms. Luckily, things seemed to be voiding him from both ends, and never stopped (so, just a flu and not a bowel obstruction this time). He threw up off and on till afternoon, and then started keeping down first pedialyte and then breastmilk. He's had one more incident first thing this morning, and I'm hoping it's the last hurrah. By about 28 hours, I was feeling ok again, and he's just now at about 24.
About midnight last night, Charlotte came into our room saying her tummy was sick. My huband took her to the bathroom twice, and nothing happened, so he let her suggle up in our bed. As I reminded him this morning, that was probably the wrong answer (the correct thing to do is go snuggle in *her* bed, as it has a waterproof matress pad...). Well, she tossed and turned and then spewed. In our bed. We picked her up and bodily carried her to the bathroom, spraying the bathroom en route (somehow she missed our carpet, but hit me--face, pajamas, and all). After changing our sheets and cleaning everyone up, we all got back to sleep--my husband in Charlotte's bed, Trystan in his own after waking up for a snack in the middle of things, me in our freshly-made up bed.
Today I get to play nursemaid--nursing one baby and playing maid to the other I suppose. Charlotte's tummy is OK so far this morning (knock on wood), but she's only been allowed peidalyte and some plain toast to eat. Trystan's napping. I finally am keeping down solid food--the first real meal since yesterday's diet of Propel, jello, and Ensure. There's a possibility that Charlotte's not really sick, but that her midnight escapade was fueled by the "nutritious" snack her daddy let her have before bed. Can you guess what that was?
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