We sent Patrick’s mother out on Monday to the Gun n’ Pawn to purchase a means by which to put us out of our misery. Today I can say I’m happy she declined. I’m a little wobbly, a little depleted, and a little thinner, but once more I can say I’m happy to be alive, which was not the case for the 48 hours between Sunday night and Tuesday night.
The only thing worse than being sick with the most vicious intestinal monster known to man and throwing up every twenty minutes for 8 hours straight all night? Is when you, your husband, and your cute little baby have it all at the same time.
By sheer good luck (for us) and rotten luck (for them), Patrick’s mother and sister came up this Sunday for one last visit with the babies before Erin goes back to work. We were excited to have them. They, and we, had things planned. I had dinners all set up. I was going to leave early from work so we could hang out, maybe take some walks, cuddle my delicious niece. And then The Fate Worse Than Death struck our house Sunday night, and instead they spent the first part of this week pouring ginger ale and changing diarrhea baby diapers. As of last night, The Fate Worse Than Death has now struck one of them (Mama E), and so now they can’t even go home on time and are stuck in the Casa de Germs for at least another day, if not two.
Erin suffered a similar South Carolinian strain of the disease last week, and thus appears to have immunized herself and her sweet smiling 3 month old. We’re hoping those two girls stay out of the fray. Patrick is recovering very slowly. Jack is bouncing back a little quicker, as am I. Which is good, because this is payroll week and the only other person who knows how to do payroll was ALSO out sick the first part of this week, so I had to drag myself in. Gawd.
I suppose I can say that despite the sick tummy and the aches and the sleepiness, it was kind of nice to have quality cuddle time with Jack all day Monday. He was content to sit on my burbling stomach (oof!) and chew on a toy or two, or lay his little head down and suck his thumb, and although I hated to see him ill, being clsoe to him made me feel better. Now he’s suffering from a bit of Mommy Attachment Disorder, which is to say he wants to be attached to Mommy all the time . Today he went back to the babysitter, so provided he survives the day without me I’m hoping he’ll become his normal, self-sufficient little self again.
It’s been quite a few days. Phew. Although I haven’t gotten to hold and play with Ella nearly as much as I’d hoped, I have been smiling at her from across the room and she has been smiling back. Golly, that kid has a smile that wrecks you. A toothless grin that spreads across her whole tiny, elfin little face, it just melts my heart. She’s really starting to develop a little personality, and it is as mellow and sweet as can be. I love social babies, and I feel so lucky that both my own boy and my little niece are such enthusiastic, people lovin’, smile-crazy babies. Maybe next time we see her I won’t be a germ farm and can play with her some more.
So that’s the update. I hope you readers give this one a miss – man, Sunday night rates as one of the Top Ten Worst Nights of My Life*. Wish my MIL luck in getting through it herself. I’ll be back with non-puke related news later in the week!
*I almost was going to write a blog post with that title, and then decided it was not a topic that I wanted to recall, nor was it one that many people would want to read.