Worst Mom in the World?

Tuesday morning, around 1:30, my daughter woke up screaming and crying. Joe, being the kind man that he is, ran to see what was going on. Normally, when she does this, it's a terrible dream, so one of us calms her down while we rub her back, and she goes back to sleep. This time, it was
because her stomach felt yucky.

Let me backup. Since I've been pregnant, Claire has adopted any ailment that I or Joe have gotten. If my back hurts, her back hurts. If my stomach is hungry, hers is too. If Joe's knees hurt from moving, hers are aching. She's kind of become the boy who cried wolf in our world when it comes to her various ailments. Honestly? Aside from a few colds, pinkeye, and an ear infection once, she has been the healthiest kid I've ever known.

So when she told me her stomach hurt on the way to dinner out on Monday night, I offered her the bathroom, but then didn't believe her. When she told us she didn't want to eat her hotdog, but was totally fine to drink her 1/2 of a strawberry shake, I thought it was about par for the course. When we stopped at the coffee house on the way home to get drinks for the neighbors and she said (on our way out) that she had to go potty - all of a sudden, which is unlike her - I asked her to hold it for the three-block drive. When she cried all the way up the stairs because she was afraid of pooping in her pants, Joe told her to run while I unpacked the car. Poor kid even stopped in the entryway to take off her shoes before we walked up the newly-carpeted stairs.

Thankfully, she made it. Without going into too many details, the poop was liquid and it stank up the bathroom. Joe and I knew we had something weird on our hands then. She cried a little post-toilet, saying her stomach hurt, but she wasn't running a fever and we gave her some water. We figured, if she's got diarrhea, she's gonna need it. She went right to sleep.

So when Claire woke up Tuesday morning around 1:30 crying, we were both still in a tired stupor and had forgotten all the evening's events and potential knowledge... until Claire threw up. It was the first time she'd ever thrown up, if I don't count the usual baby spit-ups she had before she was 6 months old. Joe ministered to her needs in the bathroom while I took a look at the new carpet, now pink. Although we no longer had carpet cleaner (we'd packed it; how stupid was that?!), it was an easy clean-up with some laundry detergent, Claire got changed into new pjs, got a little more water, and went to sleep. When I kissed her goodnight, her forehead felt warm, but not hot.

Since I was starting to feel queasy and warm too (albeit possibly from cleaning up the mess), I was mostly okay staying home with her, so I called the sub service. However, I spent the next 3 hours trying to plan out something for my 2-hour class to do that was not teacher dependent, and something else for my 2 English 1 classes to do instead of present their research posters. While I was up previewing some of Def Poetry's season one episodes, Claire came downstairs twice because her tummy hurt and she wanted some comfort. I eventually gave her some kid's Tylenol, rubbed her back some, and she slept well. I told her not to get up when the sun comes up, since she wouldn't be going to sleep. I told her her body needed sleep to feel better and she should just turn away from the sun and get more sleep instead of getting up early. She said that sounded good to her. I turned in around 5:00.

I'd planned to get up again when Joe's alarm went off at 6 to drive into school, drop off my lessons and the DVD, and get home in time for Joe to leave on foot for the VTA stop so he could get to the train station on his own. Unfortunately, I didn't turn out getting out of bed until 6:15, didn't leave the house until 6:30, and didn't get home until 7:20, ten minutes late. So, we turned out waking her up at 7:30 anyway, even though she cried and wanted to sleep more, so we could drive Joe to the train station. I felt terrible, but everything went smoothly. Claire and I came home okay, I carried her up the stairs in my 6-months pregnant condition (since Joe didn't put any shoes or socks on her when he woke her), and she got settled on the couch.

I got her some water and her favorite blanket, she watched Shrek, and she seemed totally fine. She ate some mostly-dry toast and kept it down with no problem for two hours. So when, around 10:30, she said she wanted bacon and eggs, I thought it was worth a try. Sure enough, she kept them down fine, although she was a little weepy.

When she's weepy, we normally say it's either naptime or "quiet time," which is still time in bed, but with books to look through. Of course, our goal is still naptime, but it doesn't always happen. She agreed to quiet time, so I set her up in bed with five books, a few stuffed animals, a glass of water near her bed. We talked about the quiet time rules: no getting out of bed except to go to the bathroom, no pulling out any other toys except the books and stuffed animals she'd already picked, no loud singing or banging, and quiet time's not over until I come get her. She agreed to an hour of "quiet time."

By this time, I'd already dozed off a little during the movie, so I crawled into bed and read aroun 11. Before long, I was asleep. I woke up around 12:45 and felt terrible about keeping her in quiet time longer than she'd agreed. I tiptoed over to her room, slowly opened the door, and she was completely asleep. I felt pleased, crawled back into my own bed, and went back to sleep. We both woke up around 3:45 when we had to go to the bathroom.

I knew I needed the extra sleep - between long hours of planning at work, the pregnancy, and coming off my night of little sleep - but Claire long nap only solidified the feeling that she was really sick. Joe and I had been tossing back ideas about food poisoning from the restaurant or something, but discounted it based on the long nap and the quickness with which the food had to have gone through her.

By dinner time, she was prancing and feeling good, had held down some pretty complex foods, and ate a full meal of pasta with tomato sauce, olives, and sausage. Joe commented on how much she was smiling and happy, and we both agreed that with her keeping her food down and no fever to speak of, she'd be okay going to school on Wednesday.

Wednesday passed with no problem at school. She ate well, she played well, she got a good nap. I thought about taking her to the playgroup, but something in the back of my head said that was a bad idea. We stayed home, dug out our scrapbooking stuff, and got some work done. She ate well at dinner... and then had some seriously off-color diarrhea before bedtime. I was a bit worried, but shrugged it off: it's just working through her system. She's eating well, right?

This brings us to today. This morning was business as usual. She woke up fine, cried about having to put her clothes on herself, perked up at the opportunity to pick her own breakfast, and skipped into pre-school when we dropped her off. I heard nothing all day from the school and had no reason to think otherwise.

Picked her up in the afternoon after my OB appointment, and she was walking funny. The teacher said Claire had just had an accident, but they were going in from the playground anyway. I took Claire in to get cleaned up, only to find the "accident" (no something Claire really has anymore) was super-loose diarrhea. Lovely. I cleaned her up, changed her, and started worrying a little. She said she was fine. On our way out, the teacher mentioned that Claire said before lunch that her stomach hurt, but she'd seem no symptoms. I'd, of course, seen symptoms by now but didn't say anything. I asked Claire if she wanted to go to the library, she said yes, so we started driving over.

I was really hungry, though, so I wanted to stop at Starbuck's. They have some great oatmeal cookies in the afternoon, and I was hankering for one. We stopped at the Blendz nextdoor first, to get a fruit smoothie for Claire, and she was bouncing from wall to wall full of energy and stories about when she and Joe and her buddy and his dad went to Blendz this past weekend. You never would have thought she was sick. She got her berry smoothie, we walked nextdoor and got my drink and oatmeal cookie, and walked out the back door toward the library. I asked her if she'd be okay walking to the library, about one block, instead of driving, and she said it was a "bootiful day, so let's walk." Great!

She started lagging behind as we crossed the street, so I turned around to tell her to hustle, but she started crying. Once she got across the street, she vomited up the part of the berry smoothie she'd had so far plus some other stuff on the sidewalk. I was surprised to say the least, but I can still hear the burp that preceded that outpouring. I gave her a hug, reassured her it was no big deal, and we crossed the street again to clean up back at Starbuck's. A kind woman sitting near the door got us some napkins and a glass of water, and I did my best. As I went in to throw everything away, Claire stayed outside and seemed much happier.

We walked back to the car. She was upset about missing the library, but I explained to her that sick little girls shouldn't be going to the library. Once at the car, she said her stomach hurt again, cried and screamed some more. I told her to get into the car, and then get into the carseat, so we could get home. She didn't have time to get into the carseat before she threw up again... all over the carseat, my purse, and her clothes again. At this point, Joe called on my cellphone, and I just didn't care, so I didn't answer it.

With the carseat a mess and not a single thing to clean it up in the car, I told her to lay down in the back part of the minivan (which happened to be already collapsed from moving) and we drove very slowly back home, 5 blocks total. She was afraid of throwing up in the car again, so I gave her my zip-down sweatshirt as a pillow to also throw up in, since I used it a few times while I was pregnant with her to do just that. She shouldn't have been worried, though, because she seemed fine all the way home. As a matter of fact, I had to shut her up because she was talking happily about all the neat things she could see from her unusual point of view, and not acting like a sick little girl at all. It was pissing me off.

We got home, and she announced right away that she had to go potty, so we ran upstairs and took car of that. Not a nice smell. She got dressed in pjs, rinsed out her mouth, and found a good animal to cuddle with. I told her I'd set her up on the couch in a "special cocoon," which was really just her rainbow blanket on the cushions, so if she puked again it would get on the blanket and not the couch. However, before she could climb up into the cocoon, she puked again. Let's just say at this point, I could have named everything she'd eaten since I'd seen her this morning. I cleaned up the rainbow blanket, which had done its job, we laid out a blanket on the floor instead, I put on a show for her to watch, and I called Joe first.

Turns out Joe had called because his deliverable is due tomorrow and he'd decided to stay on late to get some work done. Forgot the fact that I was supposed to go out "with the girls" tonight... a night I'd been looking forward to for over 2 weeks. Obviously, since they were a bunch of moms, including one that is 9 months pregnant, there was no way I could have gone in good conscious and spread the germs, but being home on time would have been more helpful under the new circumstances. He didn't know, felt bad, said he'd try to get his work done quicker so he could stay home with Claire tomorrow.

In the meantime, I called the doctor. The advice nurse called me back, we talked about the history you've already read/scanned through, and she said give Claire Pedialite, then some crackers, then dry toast, then dry cereal, then some bananas or applesauce, working our way back into protein and finally dairy products last. Okay, Pedialite - which I don't have. Not just water? No, the advice nurse said, something with extra electrolites is what Claire needs.

Great. Running out to the store only brought up images of the still-nasty carseat and floor and purse.... and no husband home to clean it or run the errand himself. So I imposed on our nextdoor neighbor (again), who turned out to be sick herself, to come over and sit with Claire while she watched TV and I cleaned the car up. Terry came over - she's an angel, did I mention that? - and sat with Claire while I cleaned the vomit up and dry-heaved myself. I got to the point where the seat was okay, the floor was okay, my purse was passable, but I could deal with the car seat anymore. I gave up, chickened out, moved it into the garage, and came upstairs. Threw the rags and dirty clothes into the washer, relieved Terry, and got Claire some water.

Of course, Claire was feeling better (after throwing up 3 times in 45 minutes, I might too), and was squirming around on the floor. She tipped over her water, and I snapped at her for making a mess. I felt terrible. She's only acting out the way she's feeling; she's not wallowing in her sickness, like most adults do. I should be relieved she feels better. But, no, I snapped at her for spilling water, something that's easy to clean up, even on a new carpet like ours. I apologized, of course, and she said she forgave me, and we watched the rest of her show.

Once the show was done, I was again faced with the fact that she was supposed to have Pedialite and crackers before bedtime. So, after another quick potty run, we got our shoes on, I told her to lie down in the back of the minivan again (since I hadn't cleaned the carseat yet and Joe had taken the booster seat to the storage unit which closes at 5) and we drove to the drug store. I picked up three bottles of Pedialite in various flavors, a box of crackers, and some carpet cleaner. While walking the aisles for crackers, Claire dropped one of the bottles of Pedialite twice, and I snapped at her both times. Obviously, I'm feeling the stress, and what a bitch I am for taking it out on my sick kid who is carrying a bottle that is just a tad bit too heavy for her. Eventually, I found the crackers, we traded loads, and walked to the checkout.

At the checkout she wanted to touch everything - the Easter candy, the stuffed animals, the counter - and I kept snapping at her to NOT - TOUCH - ANYTHING. She took it in stride. She started playing with her pj shorts, pulling them up to her hips, only to show that not-underwear-covered butt underneath; when I noticed the man behind us in line checking her butt out, I snapped at her to put her shorts down. Then I snapped at her for not following me out the door when the transaction was done.

I felt like crap while I got her to lay down in the back of the car again. Here I am - putting my kid in serious danger - and my last words to her will be "DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING." All the way home, I was torn between driving fast to get home sooner and images of my minivan being rear-ended and my sick daughter dying in the crash. Just as I turned onto a main street, Claire piped up from the back, "Mommy, you're a nice mommy," completely out of left field. I thanked her for the compliment, and told her I didn't deserve it. But we chatted more happily and I drove more slowly for the few remaining blocks.

The present: Claire's upstairs in bed, but not asleep. She had a dinner tonight that consisted of a Saltine (eaten too fast, despite my requests, as is her way) and four small sips of Pedialite. She doesn't like the unflavored version, but I told her she had to drink it all before she could have the flavored stuff. Of course, this is not the time to be picky; she doesn't like the unflavored kind, so she's not drinking it. But maybe this is a blessing in disguise, as she's drinking the unflavored one slowly, which is per the nurse's orders.

She did get up once, about 20 minutes ago, because she couldn't find Care Bear under her covers. She came downstairs to tell me, so I got up to help her, something I wouldn't have done if she were healthy. Halfway up the stairs, she started crying again, about how she had to cough, so I picked her up (OUCH!), carried her up the rest of the stairs, and she "coughed" into the toliet... the Pedialite and the one Saltine.

All I can say is Thank God Joe is staying home with her tomorrow. And bummer I'm missing games night. I've had enough lonely-type stress for tonight.