Monday, March 27, 2006

We just filmed a movie at my house (not for the squeamish)

It was the newest installment of The Exorcist. I should have called upon you internets to be extras, but I wouldn't have been able to pay you, so you would have smelled like puke for nothing.
Friday as I'm waiting for Daddy to get out of work I stop at my mother's house (who wasn't there-this is important) to feed Little Man. I was close to her house and he was getting fussy. She didn't cook that morning (as is the norm for her) so I gave him a jar of baby food. Gerber chicken and broccolli, also important, along with some cheese by his request. Twenty minutes later we are standing in front of the fridge, I'm pouring him a sippy of milk, he burps and Vomitout came nice green puke, all over him, all over the kitchen floor. This boy has never thrown up-outside of spitting up as a baby- I see he is gagging again, so I lean him forward as best I could so he could get it on the floor (gotta clean it anyway, right?) and he proceeds to puke up everything and anything he had in his belly all day. I'm not good with puke, but somehow I didn't lose it. No cell phone, Daddy has it with him, my mother turned off her house phone since she got her cell...WHO THE FUCK AM I GOING TO CALL??? I strip the boy and head for the tub. I'm freaking out on the inside (gotta stay cool on the outside so the boy doesn't freak, right?) my hands were shaking I don't know what to do...I don't know what to do and I'm mentally running through a list in my head of how to get him out of the tub, getting more clothes on him, cleaning the kitchen floor, and getting to Daddy's job so we can head for the hospital. I don't know what to do I don't know what to do... the boy is calmly playing in the tub, he doesn't even look like he realizes what happened. God, what is wrong? was it the food? is he still sick? I don't know what to do... WHY DON'T I HAVE THE FUCKING PHONE WITH ME??????? Somehow I get him dressed and he stays in the play pen while I scrub my mother's floor. I pack him up and head to Daddy's job, the boy falls asleep while I'm on the highway and I start to cry. I'm so bad at this, I can't even do this least he's sleeping, but I need to get him re-hydrated, how long does it take for kids to dehydrate? why is this idiot in front of me doing 40 on the goddamn highway?? how long will we be in the ER? GET OUT OF MY WAY MY BABY IS SICK!!! I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do... Daddy has already punched out when I get to his job, he is so calm when I tell him what happened. I'm still trying to maintain my composure. Why are you so calm? Don't you care? A call to the doctor: "Does he have a fever?" "No." "Diarrhea?" "A little, but I was told it would be a side effect of the antibiotic for his ear infection." "Give him some pedialyte and see how the night goes." What? WHAT? You don't want me to bring him in? The boy sleeps all night. Pedialyte in the morning, while he is drinking it he pauses to puke on me and the bed. Oh my god there is something wrong with him why is he throwing up so much??? Another call to the doctor: "Still no fever?" "NO. He threw up the pedialyte." "Okay, don't give him anything for an hour, let his stomach settle then give him a teaspoon of pedialyte every five minutes." A teaspoon every five minutes? He's already asking for food, it's eight in the morning my boy is hungry! So a teaspoon it is. I'm still holding strong on the outside, but my hands are shaking like I have Parkinson's. The boy falls asleep after twenty minutes. When he wakes up, I say Fuck the Pedialyte every five minutes bullshit and make him some soup. He eats it fine, drinks water. I let out the breath I'd been holding since the night before. Daddy goes to work. I head to the Daddy's cousin's house to wash my sheets and all the towels the boy threw up on. (His mother is my son's babysitter.) So we are there, the boy is nibbling on unsalted Saltines. (Shouldn't they be called Unsaltines?) The babysitter says she'll keep the boy while I pick up Daddy from work. While I'm on the road she calls and says he threw up three times. She gave him ginger ale thinking it would settle his stomach. (I think it made it worse because of the sugar) I want to hit my head against the steering wheel. I want to snap my fingers and blink my eyes like the Genie and make it go away. I don't even bother calling the doctor, he was asleep by the time I got back from picking Daddy up. So back home we go, back to square one tomorrow.
Now it's Sunday, the boy is starving when he gets up. Refusing the water, refusing the pedialyte, I make him soup. He loves it. Watches Finding Nemo, watches Ice Age, goes to sleep. He is still wetting diapers, but if he poops I know it'll be over soon. When he wakes up , more soup for him, more water, and we head out to run errands. There is a towel covering him in the car seat just in case. The boy is farting some rotten egg farts, stinking up the car. He finally poops. He is getting tired of the soup and water, he throws the sippy at me every time I offer it, but eats the soup. In bed early, still no puke as of this morning. We'll see how the day goes. I felt totally helpless all weekend, why are there no classes for these situations? They hand out brochures on breastfeeding, labor and such things, but they don't prepare you for these moments. I feel like shit even being here at work, and he's at the babysitter's without me. I will feel even more like shit if he gets sick again, and I'm telling anyone who will listen, I'M NOT CALLING THE GODDAMN DOCTOR AGAIN. MY ASS IS WALKING RIGHT INTO THE OFFICE.

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