Despite Goober coming into our lives almost two(!) years ago, there are still constant initiations into this whole parenting gig. New experiences, first times that make me feel like I’m still just playing pretend with this whole Grown Up Mother role. This week was definitely one of the more trying of those times. Monday morning Hubby and I woke up to a crib full of toddler barf. Let me tell you, nothing will wake you up faster than your 1 year playing in his own puke. Lovely. Hubby cleaned up the kiddo while I changed sheets and started laundry. Once he was all spic and span, Goober acted like there was nothing wrong. He ran around the house like his usual self, getting into trouble and everything pointed to him being perfectly fine. As newbies, Hubby and I just figured maybe he ate something funny and he was fine now. I went off to work, unaware that the week from hell was ahead of us.
The rest of the day Hubby dealt with our barfing baby boy, along with some diapers that could realistically be used as biological weapons. I came home early to accompany them to the pediatrician who lovingly told us there’s nothing we could do for him, except wait it out, and that these stomach flu bugs were going around. Monday evening consisted of me taking the lead on cleaning up two more pukefests and the sanitation of some very befouled stuffed animals.
Tuesday morning I went in to work late after trying to catch up on the sleep I missed the night before. I felt…off. I tried to convince myself that it was just the sleep deprivation that was causing it, but after eating lunch, there was no denying that I had caught the bug. I went home where I stayed in the fetal position for about 18 hours. It was pretty tortuous. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t really drink anything, and I couldn’t see my baby. I sent Hubby over to his parent’s house with Goober, because if Goober saw me, he couldn’t understand why he couldn’t jump on me, why I couldn’t get up and play with him.
Wednesday morning I woke up feeling significantly better than the day before. Sure, I was crazy dehydrated and hadn’t eaten since lunch the day before, but compared to what I felt the night before, I was in great shape. I went to work, only to go downhill as the day progressed. Dizzy, lethargic, and overall just felt crummy. Once again, I came home midday and went to bed. Luckily Goober was still at his grandma’s, so I didn’t have to hide from him. A 3.5 hour nap later, I was good as new. I stayed in bed reading, but I felt pretty much fine. Hubby and Goober came home, I got to play with Goober before he had to go to bed, which felt amazing after being separated from him for over a day. Right after he went to bed though, I started feeling crummy again and now Hubby felt bad too. The Bug of Doom strikes again!
It’s now Thursday morning. I am still at home because Hubby feels like crap. Luckily my parents are coming to pick up Goober around 10 so that I can go to work. I feel pretty great, but after all the feel-great-fakeouts the last couple days, I’m still skeptical that I’m over this nastiness. On the upside, I feel like I’ve been through an initiation process. A parental hazing of sorts. I’ve gone through our first toddler barfing (completely different than infant puke!), plus experienced consecutively sick family members, and lived to see the other side of all of it. I’m expecting the appropriate merit badges to arrive any day now.