Wednesday, March 20, 2013

I HATE this part of being a Mom...

Detail from:

I hate, hate, HATE - this part of being a Mom.  Rissa has a stomach bug.  She's so pale.  Almost as tall as me, yet as I'm smoothing her back while she woofs her cookies into the porcelain, I feel so freaking helpless.  She's a delicate woofer - no over-the-top gagging, just a complete emptying of her stomach contents.  She's fairly upbeat for having projectile vomited. 

"I broke my 7 year streak Mummy," she laments.  The last time she woofed her cookies was when we moved to this house.  She equates it with having eaten Cheezies while in the care of  her David's Moms - which isn't necessarily a bad thing - she hasn't touched Cheezies since then.  I sort of wish I'd had the same experience with ice cream when I was younger.

"Mummy, is this the flu?"

"No sweetie, it's not.  People call it the stomach flu, but it has nothing to do with the flu."

"Then why do they call it the flu?"

"Because someone made the mistake of calling it the flu a long time ago and now people no longer know the difference."

"You mean like when they say orangutan-g and nuc-u-lar?"  (My biggest pet peeve.  If you want to see my head explode talk about nucular orangutangs and you'll see it happen.)

The liquid children's diarrhea medicine (not to be mistake for children's liquid diarrhea medicine - which gives you an altogether more disgusting image...) we had on hand made her vomit and she can't swallow pills yet.  In between her half dozen trips to the bathroom last night, I was self-screening the noises in my own body.  Is this gas?  Is this the onset of bowel evacuation?

And today the hard part is going to be to try to keep her resting.

"You should be back in bed sweetie."

"But why?"

"Because you fell asleep at 1:30 a.m."

"I'm too hot to be in bed.  I'm going to stand out on the porch to cool down."

"No.  You're not.  Go down to the kitchen without slippers on, you be cold soon enough."

My debating whether or not I can leave her here for my 4 hours of work has now been answered - she's not going to rest.  She's going to stand naked on the porch and then develop pneumonia.  She needs a guard.  And maybe some snuggling.  And some bad tv watching.

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