Another poop post and a baby picture

Over the past week, Luke got a stomach bug.  I think that was only the second time in his five years on earth that he's thrown up, the last time being about 3 years ago.  He had no memory of that and thus no instinct on  what to do or where to run.  I was getting him out of the tub when it happened and I cursed the carpet in our master bath more than I ever have before.  Seriously, carpet in the bathroom? Why, why, why?

After the first pass, I got him turned around to the tub where he continued and between heaves, kept pitifully proclaiming, "I hate this.  I hate this so much."

And then as what often follows throw up in the stomach bug timeline, within a day he was battling diarrhea, which he also found completely disconcerting and in his words "so disgusting".  I don't know why this amused me but maybe it's the fresh perspective and commentary on something that, as adults, we've come to see as just a part of life.

I sat with him in the bathroom for moral support one night before he went to bed. He had cried on the way to his room knowing he had to go, but didn't want to. I was encouraging him to please let it out before he tried to go to sleep. 

He cried on the potty and finally told me, "Mom, you are not going to like this," as if I were going to be so disappointed.

I looked at him wondering what, specifically, he was referring to, not sure if he felt this was the right time to drop some long held confession.  "I'm not going to like what, Luke?"

"You are not going to like this.  This is going to be so, so gross."

But he went.  And he was wrong.  I did like it. Because diarrhea in the toilet is, of course, much preferable to diarrhea in the bed.

He got better and went back to school.  And Dan left for his short and sweet and very much deserved 2 day man trip to Utah.  He was going with the boys in the family to a BYU game and I was excited for him, mostly. I made him a BYU shirt for the "white out" since he didn't own a white BYU shirt.

But after he left, my head cold issues went from strictly a night time occurrence to an all day thing.  The kids felt tortured.  Not only had their super entertaining and fun dad left them, he left them with their sick and tired mother who is comparatively lame even under the best circumstances.

Ava had this sign taped up and ready for Dan by the end of day one.

And then things got (not) better when Ava, threw up all over her bed on night two.  When I ran into her room she was completely disoriented and kept insisting to me that she hadn't thrown up it was just that her hands were slimy, which they were.  

Cleaning up throw up, especially when I am gastrically-compromised by pregnancy, is not on my resume.   I would probably be considered counter productive, as just the smell can send me running.  But Saturday night there was no daddy to call on.  I gathered her blankets, which had thankfully contained it and carried them down to the laundry room. Knowing there was way too much soup to just toss in the machine, I wrapped it up like a wonton and left it for Dan on the washer. 

And then patted myself on the back and went to bed.

And then I woke to Max crying.   

Because he'd thrown up.  Never mind that he sleeps with a bed full of toys and papers and knick-knacks (not unlike his older brother used to). I braced myself again, gathered all the toys, ran them to the bathtub, changed Max's clothes, and his bedding.

And then I patted myself on the back and went to bed.

And then I woke to Max crying.

Because he'd thrown up. Again.  And he would throw up three times before the night was through.  By the end, I was out of bedding and out of blankets.  Max slept on a towel.  And Dan's pile of surprises were now a tower on top of the washing machine.

And then I went to bed again.

We were so glad when Dan got home the next day.  So, so glad. Though I'm not sure Dan was quite as excited.

And totally unrelated and un-gross, we had our ultrasound yesterday.  I was so anxious to see that little baby. The past week or so has been my in-betweener time. There is always the phase where I'm no longer reassured by constant sickness, yet I haven't really started to feel the baby move, I don't have much more of a belly than usual, and I get scared that I'm not pregnant anymore and I dreamt the whole thing up.

But there is a baby in my tummy.

I was slightly distracted by having Max there, but it was good enough for me. It's about 7 oz. now and terribly cute. We'll wait until somewhere around March 6 to see if it's a boy or a girl.  I will be overjoyed with either one. Overall, Baby looks healthy and that makes us happy!