; window.dataLayer = window.dataLayer || []; function gtag(){dataLayer.push(arguments);} gtag('js', new Date()); gtag('config', 'UA-6252405-9'); In the Mommy Trenches: Get, Set, Ready and SPEWWWWWWWW

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Get, Set, Ready and SPEWWWWWWWW

Oh yes, we've proved parenting is not for wimps this weekend. My 4 year old, gets up Thursday night spewing, everywhere.......... Oh yum. The whole crew was up by midnight. Fortunately by 4 a.m. it was all over. Or, was it? Saturday, the baby starts spewing. He's the happiest little flu sick child I've ever see. He'd spew, get up and start running around laughing. Sunday, my 2 year old starting spewing. Fortunately, she started on an empty stomach so clean up was not so terrible.

Oh but the cream of it all was that we had bought tickets to go the Wiggles concert. You know, the Wiggles, a Australian, children's entertainers. Anyways, Hubby decides that since the baby bounced back so quick, J would too. So we pack up and head off on a 2 hour drive to V to see the Wiggles. She's thirsty, she drinks water. She spews. Oh yeah. All over her, the van, her car seat. Yeah.

We get to V. I'm feeling like a bad momma by this point, dragging my poor sick child around when she should be at home in bed. We get to the concert, she's stopped spewing by this point, thank god. I didn't want to have to explain to people why I brought a spewing child out in public. So we climb up to our seats, J flops in her seat and pretty much looks like she's about to pass out. E, (4 year old) and baby O was totally happy and loving it. We look down at J and for some reason her pullup/diaper decided to leak. Not only is she sick, she's also wet. Thank goodness, she didn't reek. I'm feeling pretty bad for her. I wrap her up so she doesn't get me wet and sit her on my lap. Half way through the concert, I start feeling queasy and before you know it I have to drop J off into her seat and leave hubby all alone with three kids and race down the stairs and along to the bathroom where I promptly lose my lunch. I barely made it. I wonder what my neighbours in the bathroom thought. So I make my way back to my seat to find J actually sleeping through the noisy concert.

I was never so relieved in my life that they keep kid's concerts short. On the way out we walked past washroom after washroom and I'm thinking I'm gonna have to get in there again but I didn't want to leave Husband with 3 little children in a crowded hall all alone so I waited as long as I could and finally had to just dump them off with him and run. There was some poor person in a wheelchair trying to get manouvered into the handicapped stall and I had to all but push them out of the way so I could get past and into the stall. I'm apologizing profusely not wanting to appear rude but there was no way I could have made it any longer.

We get out to the van and I'm using the baby syringes to get baby gravol into myself, I must have looked like a drug addict as I'm throwing my head back syringing it into my mouth. I have to say it was the longest drive home ever. I almost made it all the way but had to use the bucket when we were about 45 minutes away.

We get home, I'm dying. All I wanted to do was throw myself onto my bed but no, being the momma I've got to be the strong one and help husband out. Mainly because he wasn't feeling so hot himself. So we get the kids packed off to bed and I promptly get sick. E immediately got up. She seems to think I can hold a conversation with her about how I'm feeling while I'm in the middle of upchucking. Bless her heart though, she genuinely wanted to help take care of mommy and offered to help daddy with the little kids.

We eventually get ourselves to bed and my husband joins the ranks of the diseased and infected. At 4 am, J announces she's awake. Hubby tells her to go back to bed, she says no and he just says okay. We were so sick, we couldn't even muster up the energy to do basic parenting. We woke up to find her passed out on the couch. Something which never happens in our house.

So we've all since recovered. Not, however, without infecting the upstairs Nana and Papa first.

Parenting is definitely a very messy business.

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