10:16 amBarf
Why, when something nasty happens in the middle of the night, does it always occur during the 3 o’clock hour? If you go to bed at roughly midnight, and get up around 7 (which is pretty much the standard here), then 3:30 literally is the middle of the night.
Zoe barfed in the middle of the night last night. Yeah, it seriously was at 3:30. I was startled awake by my child’s pitiful voice calling “mommmy???” all worried and strange because she can’t understand why there is hot, yucky vomit all over her bed. The poor sweetie. So I carried her to the bathroom and stripped off the yucky jammies, and washed her down and brushed her teeth, and all the while she was sobbing, “I’m sorry, I ruined my beautiful sheets!” But daddy was already on the case, stripping her bed and washing the sheets and satin covers. They are not ruined. Only temporarily yucky. We put her on our floor with her sleeping bag and gave her a fresh trash can.
Of course I kept her home from school today. She’s been lying around, watching cartoons, but otherwise she’s feeling fine. She had some noodle soup and an apple. She’s played with her ponies. But I took this sick day as the perfect opportunity to have a “scrubby” day. You know, one of those days when you kind of don’t really get dressed (until about 15 minutes before your husband gets home, so he isn’t scared of your hideous appearance), and you spend the day being scrubby. Doing laundry, cleaning the kids’ rooms to be nice (and leaving a kind note on their freshly-made beds), watching a movie with your daughter, writing blog posts, scrubbing sinks. That kind of boring stuff. And on scrubby days you just kind of hope no one knocks on your door all day.
But alas, I got a door knock. It was a lady from church. She was all dressed up with lovely make-up, and I opened the door looking like a minion of the undead… without a bra. She asked me if I was okay. I said that I was fine and then blamed my abrasive appearance on the fact that I was home with a sick little girl. I recalled the last 9 tragic hours. She was throwing up last night. She has a terrible stomach flu. Last night was horrible. She can’t keep anything down. And then when I have just finished describing the horrible, sick state that my daughter is in, Zoe comes skipping down the hallway, curls bouncing, saying “Mommy, mommy, I’m hungry!” I said, “Go lie down, sweetie. You are sick.” She smiles really big. “No, mom, I’m fine. Can I have some Poprocks?”
Jeez, kid. Can you not play along for FIVE FREAKIN MINUTES? If there was ever a time to puke in front of a neighbor, this is it!
3 Comments »
RSS feed for comments on this post. TrackBack URL
They never get sick when they need to: when they’re home and especially when I take them to the doctor.
There’s nothing like looking like a crazy person - good thing I’m used to it.
Hope she continues to feel all poprocky.
Comment by Mama Milton — October 25, 2007 @ 3:38 pm
Poor Zo!! And poor you! I hate having to clean up puke in the middle of the night. I know I don’t do a very good job because I’m still mostly asleep.
My kids will be sick for days and I take them to the doctor and they’re suddenly full of energy and the nurse looks at me like, “why are you here?” They’re never sick when you need them to be, it’s true.
Comment by Sam — October 26, 2007 @ 6:44 am
That 3am hour is a witching one, isn’t it? I’m glad she’s feeling better.
As for scrubby days, that’s my default mode. I actually scheduled Julia’s activities so she has one every day of the week. It forces me to get dressed.
Comment by Leslie — October 26, 2007 @ 10:35 am