Last night was fun. We went to bed with our little girl sleeping between us. Normally I like to try to at least start them off in their own bed. Sure, I know they’ll eventually find their way into our bed, edging us out of our own sanctuary with their elastic legs and their iron fists. They do have a way about them, our son and our daughter, that is. But since she wasn’t feeling well, we figured it was best that she be right next to us. This was an interesting decision, in hindsight, for several reasons. First, it made it easier for her to vomit on me repeatedly throughout the night. OK, that’s about it.
My night progressed thus… Roughly every hour and a half my baby girl woke up. She would sit up. At about that same moment, I would sit up and grab my new glasses from the nightstand. I’d turn toward her just in time for her to vomit on me. Then I would get out of bed, trip on something, and get a rag, towel, washcloth, or whatever I could to clean her up. Then, as I was about to get back into bed I’d stop and realize that she needed her pajamas stripped and changed. This would then lead me to the realization that I’d better throw the pj’s into the washer right then rather than wait since it would be really gross to do that. About the time I was finally ready to get back into bed I’d realize that there was some errant puke on my bed or on me somewhere. I’d then look around for a new rag to clean myself and then get back into bed with my now-sleeping baby.
By the fourth time this happened I had tripped over that same thing on the floor four separate times. I don’t even know what it was because I never turned the light on. But I do know that I finally ran out of ways to clean the bed before getting back into it. Luckily our son woke up down the hall. We knew there was no way all four of us would fit this time so I took him and went to the couch where we watched several episodes of I Love Lucy. Happily, he laughed very hard at the red-head’s antics. This amused me a great deal.
An hour or so later we were all awake. Little girl was running a slight fever so we decided that, yes, she was going to the doctor. Unfortunately, her doctor does not have Saturday hours. A trip to the local urgent care center yielded a decision that, due to her young age, she should go instead to the emergency room. The end result of all of this? She does not have the flu. Thank God! No, just a virus. But the virus had, by this time, left her dehydrated. After a couple of hours with an IV drip she was doing well enough to go home where she rested the rest of the day.
I love my babies and I’m so happy they’re both doing well tonight. But one question remains. Do Mommy and Daddy get any rest?