What is it about kid puke that sends me into anxiety over-drive? Seriously -- every time one of my kids has a tummy bug I am a wreck. Just a disaster. I'm far too stressed to eat, have to remind myself to drink, and can't sleep for more than an hour at a time without getting up to check on a both kids, in case someone has vomited in bed and I somehow missed it.
On Tuesday night, the kids had been sleeping, Scott was sound asleep, and I was trying to fall back asleep after a trip to the bathroom. I had already gotten up to pee twice and thought I heard one of the kids moan, so I got up yet again to check on them. Violet was out like a light, but Milo was tossing a bit and woke when I opened his door. He said, "I'm dizzy, mom, can I go downstairs?"
I said, "No, baby, it's the middle of the night. But if you're sick, you've got your bowl, right?"
There has been a tummy bug going around, and I leave big bowls next to the kids' beds "just in case."
He settled back in and I went back to bed, only to hear him coming out of his room five minutes later. I jump up and meet him and his bowl in the hallway as he starts emptying his stomach. Then Scott wakes up and he and I realize that the house smells like poop. Thank you so much, dogs...
Anyway, Milo wasn't even that ill -- he vomited about four times in 8 hours, took a three hour nap and never ran a fever. He wasn't ever in danger of dehydration, nor was he terribly uncomfortable.
But I was still completely unhinged when it came time for bed last night. I woke every hour to check both kids, tossed, turned, used the bathroom four times myself, and was generally awake all.night.long. Some of it was worry that it was snowing and that I'd be driving Scott's little Saturn Coupe to work today, but most of it was that I just didn't want to be changing sheets overnight. Or sitting up all night -- as I had with Milo. So, instead, I freaked out all night long.
I glared at Scott in the dark, beyond annoyed that he slumbered away in his Ambien-induced peace. I listened to Milo snore softly from his room, counted the number of times Violet rolled into the rails of her toddler bed (fourteen times, if you were curious), and heard the dogs sneeze occasionally from downstairs. I watched the fan spin, tried to breathe in synch with Violet's white noise ocean, and started doing random math problems in an attempt to bore myself to sleep.
None of it worked. Sigh...
It's so silly -- I didn't get this freaked out when Milo broke his arm. No, I was a calm, collected, rational mama then. I didn't suffer such angst when they catheterized Violet at 9 weeks to check for a UTI (negative, by the way). I don't get too concerned by coughs, runny noses, ear infections, or strange rashes.
But puke? It gets me every time. And my kids are now able to recognize the "I'm-gonna-throw-up!" feeling and ask for or grab a bowl. Even Violet can wake from a dead sleep and call, "I need a bowl!" I don't get this insanity.
And, mostly, I hope that I'm so darn tired from two less-than-satisfying nights of sleep that I really conk out tonight. Although, Violet's not out of the window of exposure yet. Argh...