House o’ Puke

I haven’t blogged for a while, partly because our house has been a medical disaster area.

Warning, icky medical details following.

It all started Sunday night. Everything was fine. Everyone was asleep. About 2 in the morning I wake up with the “uh oh” realization that I need to run to the bathroom. Big fun. The Immodium AD moment. It was bad. So I deal with it and go back to bed.

Around 5 in the morning I get the stomach gurgle. And then that tell tale sign that vomit is coming. I get up and walk to the bathroom, saying to myself “this just isn’t fair”. Sure enough, I puke up whatever didn’t come out the other end. Really nice.

I was supposed to fly to Chicago the next day. Yeah, right. So I deal with a day in bed eating basically two pieces of toast. No more puke, but my stomach wasn’t ready for anything. The next day is better, but I stay home because I’m still a bit weak. But OK, it’s over.

Or not. Victoria is clearly sick. Monday night she was a disaster sleeping. My wife stayed with her and Danielle came and slept with me because Tori was crying too much (they share a bedroom). Our nanny says she’s ok on Tuesday, but when I’m with her Tuesday night she’s totally rubbing her ears. So I’m thinking ear infection, take her to the doctor tomorrow.

So Tuesday night Victoria is cranky again. I’m feeling better so to give my wife a break (since she slept like crap with Tori the night before), I stay with Tori and Danielle sleeps with my wife.

About two in the morning, my wife knocks on the door. “I need your help”. Danielle has puked all over the bed. And since she has long beautiful hair, it’s all in her hair. “Can you bath her and I’ll change the sheets?” my wife asks.

So I’m washing puke out of my daughter’s hair while my wife is dealing with pukey sheets. We get Danielle cleaned up and she is shivering and feeling lousy. Let’s face it, puking feels horrible for a grown up, for a kid it’s horrible and scary. So my wife asks her if she wants to come back to bed with her and Danielle replies, “I just want to lie on the couch with Papi” (Papi is me, if you aren’t familiar with the Hispanic nickname for Daddy).

So we curl up on the couch. I’m exhausted, still recovering from my own illness. It’s 2:30 in the morning. Our apartment smells like puke. I’m lying on the couch that is too small for both of us, holding my daughter in the most uncomfortable position possible as she falls asleep in my arms.

I’m strangely happy.

This is parenting. It’s full of icky bodily fluids and lack of sleep. Yet there’s something about that moment when your child just wants you and no one else and you hold them in your arms that makes it wonderful.