One of the good things about Thanksgiving – other than the abundance of food and family – is the fact that, for most of us, we end up with a four-day weekend. And we had some great plans made. There was a trip to the Zoo planned for Friday. There was a night out for dinner with friends for Momma and Daddy on Saturday. And there was a whole day of just Daddy, Finley and football on Sunday. It was looking like a great weekend. But you know what they say about best laid plans.
After a great get together with my side of the family on Thursday, we woke up Friday to find our little Princess not quite herself. Instead of being excited when we go into her room to get her out of the crib, she just laid there, lethargic. This is the girl who squeals your name when she sees you coming. This is the girl who can’t wait to see what the day holds or can’t wait to find out where you’ve put her morning juice. But THIS morning, she was as lively as the Seattle Seahawks’ offense.
Another sign that things weren’t right was how she passed on breakfast, including her favorites… yogurt and applesauce. Then, she just sat on our laps, not wanting to play or read. She was a bit warm, but didn’t have a fever. Finally, a few hours after waking up, she threw up. Unfortunately, as we would find out a little later, this wasn’t going to be a one-ended ordeal.
She didn’t really throw up again, but we went through plenty of diapers, if that tells you anything. The munchkin was definitely sick and the zoo was out of the picture. She did rally a bit after a LONG nap and we were able to get some fresh air that night.
So, we were hoping that after a livelier evening, we’d have our girl back the next morning. It wasn’t to be. Saturday morning was almost identical to Friday morning and we made plans to unmake plans. Our night out for dinner was going to be just the Daddy, while Mommy stayed in and took care of the little “Sicky Dickey.” And as we were about to discover, even unmaking plans can’t help you avoid the inevitable.
I got home from dinner around 9:30 and checked in on the Princess and the Mommy to make sure everyone was okay. Not even ten minutes later, I started getting cold sweats and my stomach was having second thoughts about my meal. I was actually doing fairly well, containing the stampede, but a few minutes later I was in bed. I only wish I got to stay there. I was up every 20 to 40 minutes and finally started to see some rest around 5am. And that’s when it hit Heather.
It was tag team toilet trips for the rest of the morning and into Sunday afternoon. Of course, Finley was feeling much better, so we had to take turns laying down and keeping her entertained. Needless to say, it wasn’t much fun. To her credit, Finley seemed to sense there was something going on and did a good job of keeping herself busy. She didn’t need too much extra attention and wasn’t into some of her favorite crazy antics. She was happy to read a book or color on her own, which was good because I would be laying on the couch almost literally keeping an eye on her. It was the only one I could keep open.
The good news is that this was apparently some sort of 24-hour stomach bug and as I write this on Monday night, I feel almost normal and Heather is following close behind. Finley was a little lethargic, again, this morning, but ended up having a good day. I figure her guts are a lot newer and it will take her a little longer to get over things like this.
I will say that being sick is never any fun… we all know that. And having a sick kid is not much better. If you’re lucky you can be sick with the kid and still have one parent standing. But when the whole team gets wiped out by the same bug, it’s like someone unplugged your family.
We knew that having a kid would introduce a lot of new experiences into our lives. We’ve been able to see the miracle of birth, the wonder of walking and the joy of laughter she brings. But, I could really do without the coughs, colds and crud every month or so. I guess that’s part of the deal. All or nothing. In the long run, I guess it’s a pretty fair trade off. I’ll trade as many nights as you want, running to and from the bathroom, as long as I get an infinite number of hugs and kisses from my Sicky Dickey in return.
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