Showing posts with label puking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label puking. Show all posts

Friday, May 31, 2013

Happy Anniversary...

Hiya Snappers! Missed you yesterday at the Hop! Don't forget to hop over next week for Tattler Thursday!

                               


So today, Hubbie the Dearest and I have been hitched nine glorious years! Happy Anniversary HTD! Me love you long time! So we had planned to go to an outdoor concert for our anniversary, had an overnight babysitter lined up(and let me tell you, that doesn't happen often), and this post is about what happened instead.  So far, until before dinner time.

                               


Yesterday afternoon when I picked  up my darling child from HTD's grandmamma at around 3:15, she was exhausted.  I know. She was also burning up. Inside. In the cool, bought air. Great. We have been running non stop, for going on close to six weeks.  We have been out of town on vacation for two separate weeks, I know baby, mommy's exhausted too!



So we go home, and the first sign something is wrong, is that my 4yo immediately asks to go to my bedroom, because it is the hottest room in the house, because she is freezing.  She wants me to snuggle her, which is the next odd thing, because being almost 5, she is fast growing out of the snuggle me mommy phase.  She requested matching popsicles for her and myself, and to watch TV while she wrapped her lil heated body around mine, snuggled under my big, hot, comforter.  Uh-oh. And let me tell you, having a three day old sunburn is not fun when your daughter is on fire! And has decided to wrap herself around you to the point of becoming another limb! So I gave her some motrin, and we fell asleep.

Now my daughter fights taking naps anymore.  I am in mourning for nappie time, people, seriously! After a two and a half hour nap, we wake up slimily stuck together.  Sweating profusely anywhere her little body is stuck to mine.  At least the motrin cooled her upper half down! So she is clingy and wants to cuddle until daddy gets home.  She ate another popsicle, and was making an unsuccessful attempt at eating her dinner, when HTD arrived home.  So she layed around, snuggled some more, and layed on the cool couch until bedtime.

She wanted me to come to bed to snuggle her, so I did.  I snuggled her little uncomfortabley hot body all night.  I held her in my arms, her favorite place to be when she is sick, which is not very often. I listened to her snore, to make sure she was breathing, waited on her motrin to kick in and cool her down, which it never did, and finally slapped a cool washrag on her head continually til her fever came down.  I held a in-bed-with vigil for my baby all night long, until I finally fell asleep for a couple of hours.  I woke every time she coughed, scared this was going to be the time she puked, and not wanting her to choke on it.  I worried, as mommies do, that her fever would not come down, and that I was going to have to take her to the ER.  I wondered if she would soak in a cool bath, I googled meningitis and other communicable diseases that can be caught from the swimming pool(spent 2 days this week in pool), on my phone, and I prayed.  A lot.  I don't know what you believe, but I believe my God and hers, answers prayers.

So I finally get over the hump of the night and fall asleep again about 5:45.  She is cool, breathing normally, and is sound asleep. The nexy thing I know HTD is coming in to check on her and us, when he wakes up. Miraculously, she has remained cool since the 4am dose of motrin, and washrags.  So I roll over.  She stirs, and rolls over too.  HTD comes to tell us goodbye and bring another dose of medicine before he leaves for work.  my baby hugs her daddy, and he kisses us both.   He goes to brush his teeth, the 4yo rolls over, and I go to pee.  And that is where, from my throne in the bathroom, I wished Hubbie the Dearest a Happy Anniversary! Sexiest Happy Anniversary Wishing Ever! Hah! And the fun was just beginning.

So of course, as soon as HTD leaves for work, my baby is up and at 'em. She requests a popsicle and Mickey Mouse on Disney Jr.  Okay, waffle first.  So I prepare her waffle.Then she comes back and snuggles in her bed for a few minutes , after she uses the potty.  Then she then sits up, looks at her waffle, and starts coughing. THE coughing.  All you parents out there know THE cough.  The one where they cough so hard, they make themselves puke.  Lightening fast, I grabbed the designated puke receptacle, and, pschew, she aimed and I caught it! Puke -0, mommy -1. Yay! Yumm-o Gatorade! Yuuuum breakfast!

So we mosey into the living room.  We watch kid tv, drink Gatorade, and eat popsicles for the remainder of the morning. it has been several hours, so I was thinking of giving her a cracker, or toast, when great grandma drops by to bring a strawberry and vitamin care package to her baby.  So using my sleep deprived, also half sick and dehydrated forgetful mommy brain for food decisions, I give the 4yo a couple of gummi vitamins. That's some good decision making right there, and oh boy did I pay for it!

I proceed to make lunch for me, and a few crackers and a couple potato chips for the 4yo.  I no more than snuggle up on the couch, pop in a movie, and settle in to eat half of my sandwich, when the 4yo asks me to pause the movie.  I pause the movie, she gets off the couch, and in slow motion, projectile vomits all over the living room floor.  Dammit, she did not tell me she had to puke, the puke bag was right beside us!  I thought she had to pee! She hit everything! The couch, the floor, across the floor into the kitchen, over to the other wall, not to mention far reaching splatters that went in every direction. I have never witnessed anyone puke standing up, have you? I contemplated letting her finish in a bag, but she already doused herself and the floor, so I just let her have at it. Thank you God for not letting her hit HTD's TV! That is all. Thank you!

So now I wipe her down, take her to the bathroom, as she now has to poop, and wipe up the floor with towels.  I go to get the Swiffer and the button doesn't work.  So as I maniacally shake the Swiffer and push the button to get the juice to come out, And there is no Swiffer juice in the bottle.  Crap.  Just freaking craptastic. Okay it cannot get any worse! Or so I think. I can just imagine how crazy and hilarious I look while shake begging if you will, willing the Swiffer to work.  So just when I decide to use Lysol disinfectant wipes on the floor, wipee skating across the floor, I hear ,"MOMMY...", so I go running to the bathroom.  She just was having a lazy day and needed wiped. Pschew, no problem babydoll, I bet she was exhausted after that fantastical display of spray!

So she is stripped down as I wipee ice-skate across the hardwood living room floor.  She asks to help.  Sure, why not? So as my nekkie 4yo and I are finishing up our ice dancing routine brought to you by Lysol lemon scented disinfectant wipes, I again visualize just how this would look to a neighbor.  Gotta get that final window curtain up!

                                                      (Excuse my swollen Hobbit feet)

So now it is time for the shower.  The 4yo hangs out in the cool shower for close to a half an hour.  It felt good and cooled down her little hot body.  So I wash her hair when she is done, and just as I am getting ready to rinse all the suds from her long, curly, coarse, hard to handle hair, she yells, " Mommy I have to poop!" Bahahaha! I stand there in amazement.  I even ask her if she is kidding! Alas, my friends, she is not.  She couldn't wait! So I spread a towel from the shower to the potty, and watch as my child reaches the potty with suds galore sluicing down her back and booty.  Only in the movies! So let me ask you, have you ever tried to wipe a child's poopy butt while there are water and suds running down at the same time.  Visualize, if you will, what happens to toilet paper when it gets wet...right. Fun times people. Fun times. About this time HTD texts me that he is feeling queasy and coughing.  And Happy Anniversary! Lovely, just lovely.  Ditto, baby, ditto!

So I get her washed, rinsed, lotioned, conditioned and clothed.  Now time for mommy's shower.  I put her in my room watching tv, comfortably ensconced with her puke bag.  I take a quick uneventful shower, except for when I spaz out because I hear her coughing. It's ok, even though I spazzed out, she is bag trained! Whoo!

So thanks for hanging in there with me, I know the length of this blog is nearing epic proportions! We are almost done! I promise! Next up, the air conditioning has frozen up because it's a small unit, and it was a 90+ degree day outside today!  I turned it up, but alas, that did not work.  Apparently I needed to turn the fan on, the AC off, and sit back and roast.  Mission accomplished! All while dealing with the aforementioned occurances of my 9th wedding anniversary. 80 degrees? No problem! That's how we roll around here, taking things with a grain of salt and a pinch of grace! Wink!

                                      

So you all know I always try to find the positive , or the silver lining in everything and in every situation.  So my silver linings today are this, my husband and my daughter, my little family.  Even though today did not go at all as we had planned, I am thankful.  I am thankful and very blessed in the man that I call my husband.  He is my soul mate , my best friend, my lover, my protector, my provider, my one in a million trambillion(to quote the 4yo), spoils me rotten, takes excellent care of me, puts up with me and my moods, and still loves me and thinks I am sexy.   I am his and he is mine.  He made one of my biggest dreams come true on our wedding day, 9 years ago today.  We are still living our fairy tale. We made a promise to stick together, me and him against the world no matter what.  And we have.  He also made my dream come true of raising a family together, by first allowing me to help raise his children, our children, and then after over a year of infertility struggles, have our very own little miracle baby. So today I am so very thankful for this man, to this man, and the opportunity he has given me, for some, very special little one, to puke on me and call me mommy. 

                              



Happy 9th Anniversary baby! I love you more than words! Oh and I almost forgot! To commemorate the occasion, the 4yo drew half of a 9 in permanent pink marker on the dining room table! Awesome!



 

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Mrs. O'Hara, Puking, Momma's Bible, Towels, and 3000

 I am PMS'ing.  I have only PMS'd two to three times in the last year.  As to why, well you need to read A Scrape, A Burn, 6 incisions, 4 units of blood, and a Little Heart Shaped Surprise .  So  we are in the process of moving.  Well, sort of.  There's a catch you see, we actually haven't started.  Moving that is.  I started.  And it sucks.  After having gone all but one month in the last eight, without the womanly curse, Mrs. O'Hara if you please, she is so not welcome back.  Especially now, when I need to be busting my booty putting away all the Christmas everything, and then packing to move.  By the end of the month.  Mrs. O'Hara came to visit the day before yesterday while mini-vacationing at my dad's house in WV.  The visit was planned, but I extended it a couple of days, to avoid the inevitable packing and moving.  Ugh.  My hubbie came up to spend the night with myself and the 4yo at my daddy's.  It's like after having been apart for five days, my one remaining ovary, which is no longer connected to anything, said, "whoa, hold up, I can still party like a rockstar!  I smell the hub testosterone!  I smeeeeellllllll it!"  Creak, groan, pinch, cramp, smoke emitting forth out of the hoochie girl, and whamm-o, it's kicking again.  I'll be damned.  Everytime I mention being gloriously rid of Mrs. O'Hara, bam!  It's like she hears me!  She says," Oh no my dearie, your not done yet!  You thought you were done? Oh sorry! HATE to be an inconvenience(insert wicked grin and evil laugh here)!" So while I don't feel like doing anything but laying in bed, I have been running errands.  For the last six days. Ugh.  And I have been a little sensitive. I am sure my MIL is reading this going,"you call that sensitive?"  Sorry MIL, love you!
 
 So anyway, while at the father's, we had a 4yo puking incident.  As soon as we fell asleep.  I woke up to a cough.  Not just any cough, THE cough.  The one that means, here it comes, the big one!  And it was one of those lovely ginormous ones.  The kind where the child's dinner was not digested.  Yup big ol' non digested cheese globs.  Yummy.  All over the sheets, the comforter ,pink and white jammies, four pillows, three blankets, two afghans, and all over the brand new pink pillow pet. ( Feel free to sing along to the tune of the Twelve Days of Christmas!) So needless to say, Dad and I did not get any sleep that night!  We were up washing everything off and out in the sinks, and the dreaded stench of the inside of my child's stomach invaded my nostrils and stayed there. Ugh.
 
 So the rest of the night, I am reliving washing the puke out of my child's clothes. No sleep for dear old mom.  Every time she coughed or made a noise, I was right there, under her face with a peach trash can.  I did not want puke all over, well... everywhere again.  Plus we were running out of blankets! I decided to go through my mother's books, while I was on yak detail.  My mother's bookshelf is right beside her bed.  She passed away a year ago to the day on Thanksgiving Day, of last year. My mother had a habit of putting tissues to mark her page in a book, when she was out of bookmarks.  So I decided I was ready to look at the last things my mother had been reading.  Several books were about love, several about health, some she had started and never finished, and there were many containing poetry and verse, which she loved.  And then there was her green bible.  I opened her bible, curious as to what I might find.  I found all of the usual things, obituaries of long gone relatives, programs from wakes past, and my grandfather's funeral program.  Then as I was flipping through to where the pages fell open, the book fell open to the twenty second and twenty third Psalm.

  There was a blood stain on the left hand side, where the twenty second Psalm was located.   There was an elongated strip of dried blood starting at the top, and one single dot at the bottom.  Tears just started silently falling from my eyes.  I knew my mother had been here and read these pages before she died.  I later discussed it with my dad, and we decided she had probably been reading her bible one day, ad had a nose bleed.  I cannot describe the feeling I had had as I read the words that my mother had been reading.  I knew instantly what she was feeling.  Here is an excerpt from that page;
The Holy Bible: King James Version. 2000.
The Psalms
22

A Cry of Anguish and Song of Praise
To the chief Musician upon Ai'jeleth Shahar, A Psalm of David.
1 My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me? Mt. 27.46 · Mk. 15.34

 
Why art thou so far from helping me, and from the words of my roaring?
2 O my God, I cry in the daytime, but thou hearest not;