Memorial Day Blues
You mean yesterday was supposed to be a holiday? Really?
*Disclaimer: If you don't have kids or you have a weak stomach, you might want to skip this post!*
I think I need a holiday after this weekend. K came down with some kind of stomach bug, and so there went my life. It's not that I had high expectations or anything planned. Terence had to work Memorial Day because that's just part of life as a cop. (Any holiday is an excuse to drink and get behind the wheel, apparently.) It's just that by last night I was physically and emotionally drained.
Anyway, part of K being sick has been really bad diarrhea. You know, the kind that is mostly water and leaks over everything about every half an hour. So I spent most of Sunday afternoon and Monday rotating loads of clothing and bedding into the washer. I tried to keep my sense of humor about it; in fact, I had a system in place (OK, now the crib needs to be changed so I'll move him to the swing. Now the swing needs to be washed so I'll stick him in the playpen. OK, time to change the playpen but I've got the second sheet and mattress pad on the crib now, so back to crib he goes....) Fortunately, for K's sake, he still had an appetite so even with everything coming out, we kept him away from dehydration. But that meant I was feeding him every three hours or so. Inevitably during those feedings I would experience a poop explosion. I can't even remember the number of times I was holding him only to find myself drenched in yellow, pungent liquid poop. Yeehaw.
He was up at 4:30 in the morning, but that's pretty normal. I just had an extra mess to clean up before I got him fed, then one more mess to clean up before I went out for my morning bike ride. In fact, between cleanups and loads of laundry, I still managed to get some strength training done in the morning, along with a long list of errands.
But let's face it, that energy couldn't last forever. I'm not superwoman. By bedtime I was a raving lunatic. I felt so bad for the other kids. (Truth be told, it's not a good time of the month for me either. The PMS monster is raising its head right now too.) The kids just refused to go to bed, and I had yelled til my throat ached in one of my more pathetic moments as a mother. (All I wanted was for them to stay in their rooms! That was it! They could have stayed awake all night if they wanted to as long as they let me go to bed.)
About 9:30pm (the seventeenth hour of my shift, so to speak,) K decided pooping wasn't enough and he threw up all over me. Oh the joy. The good thing was that he didn't get himself. Somehow he managed to aim right for my hair. Shortly after that I was on the phone to Terence, horribly depressed. ("I'm such a bad mom! I ate bad, and I'm going to gain all my weight back! I'm so lazy, I just laid around all evening! And my hair smells horrible!") Terence was kind and sympathetic and patient and reassuring. Most of all, he kept telling me that I only felt this way because I was so tired. He suggested that I just give up waiting for the kids to go to sleep; he would deal with any havoc when he got off work.
Grateful for his encouragement, I laid down next to K on a blanket on the floor. We were both asleep quickly. When Terence got home, I found myself in my bed with no recollection of how I got there. K was in the swing, and B was sleeping on the floor next to my bed. Hmm, I must have done that part in a zombie state.
Still, I survived to tell the tale. This morning I woke up feeling back to normal, went for my run and swim and everything. K is sleeping at the moment; he seems to be feeling slightly better (things are much slower than yesterday.)
But I really think I need a day off.
*Disclaimer: If you don't have kids or you have a weak stomach, you might want to skip this post!*
I think I need a holiday after this weekend. K came down with some kind of stomach bug, and so there went my life. It's not that I had high expectations or anything planned. Terence had to work Memorial Day because that's just part of life as a cop. (Any holiday is an excuse to drink and get behind the wheel, apparently.) It's just that by last night I was physically and emotionally drained.
Anyway, part of K being sick has been really bad diarrhea. You know, the kind that is mostly water and leaks over everything about every half an hour. So I spent most of Sunday afternoon and Monday rotating loads of clothing and bedding into the washer. I tried to keep my sense of humor about it; in fact, I had a system in place (OK, now the crib needs to be changed so I'll move him to the swing. Now the swing needs to be washed so I'll stick him in the playpen. OK, time to change the playpen but I've got the second sheet and mattress pad on the crib now, so back to crib he goes....) Fortunately, for K's sake, he still had an appetite so even with everything coming out, we kept him away from dehydration. But that meant I was feeding him every three hours or so. Inevitably during those feedings I would experience a poop explosion. I can't even remember the number of times I was holding him only to find myself drenched in yellow, pungent liquid poop. Yeehaw.
He was up at 4:30 in the morning, but that's pretty normal. I just had an extra mess to clean up before I got him fed, then one more mess to clean up before I went out for my morning bike ride. In fact, between cleanups and loads of laundry, I still managed to get some strength training done in the morning, along with a long list of errands.
But let's face it, that energy couldn't last forever. I'm not superwoman. By bedtime I was a raving lunatic. I felt so bad for the other kids. (Truth be told, it's not a good time of the month for me either. The PMS monster is raising its head right now too.) The kids just refused to go to bed, and I had yelled til my throat ached in one of my more pathetic moments as a mother. (All I wanted was for them to stay in their rooms! That was it! They could have stayed awake all night if they wanted to as long as they let me go to bed.)
About 9:30pm (the seventeenth hour of my shift, so to speak,) K decided pooping wasn't enough and he threw up all over me. Oh the joy. The good thing was that he didn't get himself. Somehow he managed to aim right for my hair. Shortly after that I was on the phone to Terence, horribly depressed. ("I'm such a bad mom! I ate bad, and I'm going to gain all my weight back! I'm so lazy, I just laid around all evening! And my hair smells horrible!") Terence was kind and sympathetic and patient and reassuring. Most of all, he kept telling me that I only felt this way because I was so tired. He suggested that I just give up waiting for the kids to go to sleep; he would deal with any havoc when he got off work.
Grateful for his encouragement, I laid down next to K on a blanket on the floor. We were both asleep quickly. When Terence got home, I found myself in my bed with no recollection of how I got there. K was in the swing, and B was sleeping on the floor next to my bed. Hmm, I must have done that part in a zombie state.
Still, I survived to tell the tale. This morning I woke up feeling back to normal, went for my run and swim and everything. K is sleeping at the moment; he seems to be feeling slightly better (things are much slower than yesterday.)
But I really think I need a day off.
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p.s. how old is Kyle now?
Something must be going around though. Peanut barfed in his crib yesterday, soaking everything in sight. Weird.