Barfest and other thoughts


So, we are ringing in the new year here with a household pandemic of the stomach flu. It started with Charlie about ten days ago; i got gunned down on Friday night. I am going to be disgustingly honest with you about one detail. I had it coming out both ends and i can say it is quite the humbling experience to be sitting on the toilet one minute and the next be facing it. Seriously, AWESOME! Husband was hit by the barf bus on Sunday night, in the middle of the night. So no sleep then.
But here's the weirdness of this. Hubby and i got over it pretty quickly---one four or five hour chunk, a sensitive stomach the next day but generally it's done. Charlie is a whole different ball of wax. He only has been throwing up once every other, or every three days. In between those days, he's only eating a bit and today, has kinda been resisting fluids. We're watching for dehydration. But just as we think he's over the hump, like he hasn't thrown up for a couple of days, boom, a total upchuck. The kid is definitely fighting something.

So we went through something similar last year but last year he wasn't eating because he had hand, foot mouth disease, which sounds worse than it is but essentially, he had open sores all the way down his throat. His lack of eating or drinking caused us to have to take him to the hospital, where we had the worst medical experience of my life. But what i am realizing about this kid is that generally, he stays pretty healthy, but when he gets hit with something, he gets hit pretty darn hard--harder than most of his peers. So as his mom, i am trying to be patient and understanding as he wails for me the second i leave his sight but curse me down for this, my patience is wearing thin.

Tonight, i came home from a kinda crappy day at work (just realizing that i really have my work cut out for me there) and charlie is cranky. He is so much like his daddy it's nuts because when he doesn't eat, he is a real bear to deal with. So of course, since he is not eating, he is beside himself--a real fucking pill. He says a few words of things he wants to eat. I provide them all. To each, he says, "No." Unbeknownst to me, the kid is about to throw up everything that he had eaten in the last five hours or so. And it goes EVERYWHERE....my shoes. My SHOES! And i am fine with all of this because hell, i feel bad for him, i hate seeing him so sad and sick and it's all part of motherhood. But i couldn't console him--not with holding, singing, bouncing, nothing. Then i thought of one thing that always works, something i don't use too often but i most definitely use: TV. And damn if that didn't console him.

So, you know, i'm the counselor type and i know my motivations and the feelings behind my feelings. So i know that i was impatient with him because i feel powerless to comfort him. And then of course, i feel usurped by Sesame Street and Elmo. And of course, the fear that i have that we would have to go back to the hospital is palpable at this point. So there's my own self-pychoanalysis.

I really don't have much more to say except that aside from this, things are going pretty well. I like my job, Hubby and i are cool, i am seeing a counselor (which is awesome) and charlie, up until lately, has been a sweetie. So, i'm sorry about being a kinda debbie downer but i guess i post entries when the shit hits the fan. On a good note, i am really working with counselor to be less of an anxious person and find more joy in life. So kudos to me ;)

Signing off--Survivor of Barfest 08