The best laid plans…
CAUTION: This post is a description of the interesting and not-too-fun scourge that hit my family this week. Enjoy. 🙂
If you’ve been reading my blog (thanks, by the way, for being one of those regular readers), then you know that my last post discussed menu planning and Lent and Pancake Tuesday and all the fun plans I had made for the week. Miss Sassy Pants had given us her explanation of the purpose of Easter and discussed what she might give up in the name of the season.
Well, all that went down the drain. Literally.
On Tuesday morning, when we were ready to have pancakes for dinner and plan our penitence, the Animal and I dropped big sister off at school and met my dad (Opa) for breakfast at the local BBQ joint. My dad loves this place and their western omelets, and it was his birthday. We had a great breakfast, the Animal was adorable, and then we were off on our separate ways.Â
About an hour after I was home and had put the baby down for his nap, I was working online with one of my students. My stomach began to feel funky, and I assumed it was due to the omelet and my body’s lack of a gall bladder (long story – maybe I’ll tell you some day). Even though it’s been 10 years since they incorrectly diagnosed me and took out one of my ORGANS, my body still reacts to certain foods in goofy ways. So, the way I was feeling wasn’t horribly out of the ordinary (and yes, even though I know I react to foods in bad ways, I still eat them — we only live once).
But then it got worse. I could barely stand. Holding or nursing the baby was making me nauseas. I texted Aaron so he could share in my lamenting. I rolled on the floor “playing” with the baby. I did everything I could to ward off the impending doom I knew was on its way.
Thank goodness the Animal took his nap without too much fuss. How I got through feeding him lunch, I still have no clue. I guess that Mama instinct kicked in and took care of me. So, I laid down on the couch to try to tell my body that I was in charge and it would NOT get the best of me.
Around 2 pm, it started. I’ll spare you most of the details, but let’s just say that after Aaron and Miss Sassy Pants got home, I did nothing but go between the couch and the restroom for almost 4 hours. The Animal thought I was playing with him — and he kept screaming back. Even in the midst of my ugly, I found a way to see this as hilarious.
After I forced Miss Sassy Pants to eat some dinner — needless to say, we did not have pancakes — she began to complain of her stomach hurting. Now, she’s an awesome actress. I expect her to win an Oscar some day and bring the family much fame and fortune. I just knew she was messing with me or having empathy pains.
At 7:30, after I had told her good night, she was at the top of the stairs reporting she’d been sick. I made it up the stairs as fast as I could to verify that she had, indeed, been sick to her stomach. And that began her 9-hour bout with this virus that has hit our community. 9 hours.Â
I thank the Up Above that she is as responsible and mature as she is because she stayed upstairs the entire time. She would take herself from her bed to her bathroom, bang on the floor to get my attention, and then sweetly say, “Gosh, Mommy. That was painful.”
Fast-forward to morning:
I have slept maybe a total of 3 hours between getting sick myself, running up the stairs to be with my baby girl, listening to The Animal make in-the-middle-of-the-night-please-God-don’t-wake-up-tonight-of-all-nights noises, and worrying about Aaron who is tossing and turning and lying next to me with all the covers on him (he was freezing) and his eyes wide open. He’d complained of aching. All I could worry about was that he and I would somehow need our bathroom at the same time. And I KNEW that would not go well.
Aaron got out of the bed with red-rimmed eyes. The Animal awoke with a diaper that could rival any “bad” diaper anyone has ever changed (seems like this was HIS version of the bug), and Miss Sassy Pants had bright red cheeks and was running 101.9. And somehow, I had to bring mysel
f together to deal with all of it.
f together to deal with all of it.
But I did. The girl and I lay around all morning trying to keep the baby away from her and busy. He moaned and complained and whined almost non-stop. I somehow nursed him. Miss SP and I finally feasted on two crackers and some ginger ale. When The Animal took his nap, we fell asleep on the couch. We were toast.
That menu on the board by the back door? It’s still there looking all Martha Stewart-esque. Somehow, I switched out the Valentine’s decorations for St. Patrick’s decorations. I even vacuumed and swept and wiped counters.
And, oh, we had our pancakes. We all had some pancakes on Thursday. Forced them down a bit, but we had them.Â
Some of you who responded to the last post asked what Miss SP decided to give up. I asked her. She said that this year, she won’t be giving anything up. It had been a really hard Pancake Tuesday.
