Friday, December 2, 2011

what seems to becoming a regular friday or otherwise known as I HATE PUKE

Today started long before the alarm went off this morning. I had trouble sleeping last night. Over stimulated I suppose. I have been thinking about jewelry projects, working on them, envisioning new projects, thinking about projects that are in process and are to be done in tandem with another friend. I used to not be able to read home magazines or gardening books when I went to bed, as I would not end up sleeping and make Jay crazy by requesting that he dig lights out of the garage so I could garden at night (insert REM song here...from the very early days...when the stuff was good).

The day and night just keeps getting fucking better. While typing this Thurston has fucking puked for the 3rd time in our bed. I have NO more sheets, I do not have the luxury of a washing machine in my home. I am overtired and hate the smell of fucking puke. I turned from typing with a mother's intuition to catch this last round. I HATE PUKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My hands cannot seem to be rid of the vile smell. OK. lavender oil seems to have masked the smell.
I feel bad. Thurston feels like crap. I am only one person and can do only one task at a time. He wants me to change his clothes, get his stuffed toy, get a blanket, i have to change the sheets, wipe up the puke that dripped out of my hands as i ran to the bathroom. All this time, operating on extremely little sleep, which is no fault of Thurston's. I just told him I couldn't handle putting on a kid tv show. He needed to let me have a time out to be irritated by more puke-age and the devastation it creates in our universe.

Let me go back to 15 minutes ago, when i thought maybe we were done with puke-age and he had fallen back asleep. I didn't sleep well last night, probably because I was over stimulated, but maybe due to change in weather, or my mom instincts telling me I was hearing the beginning of another round of sick. This will be the 4th time Thurston has been sick since the start of the school year. It is awful. I hate for him to feel this terrible. In addition, I lose time from work and earning money, and I become even more of a shut in (worrying about money). At about 4am this morning, Thurston starts this snoring/wheezing thing. I thought, "great, this doesn't bode well." He wasn't running a fever, just wheezy. I got up and got the humidifier out and got it running. After about a 1/2 hour, I could hear the relief in his breathing. I still however, now really didn't sleep. I was listening to him, taking his temperature. When the alarm went off at 7.30am, I was tired, but ready to try to start the day. Still no fever, and I selfishly wanted to get to my hair appointment (which are awful to reschedule) and to work. Thurston was perky, just a pesky barky cough that was diminishing as he was upright. I thought, "Well, I am going to be conservative with this. I will pick him up at 3.15 when school is out. Instead of having him go to the after school program till 5ish. I would leave work 1.5 hours early, but that is better than not working at all, right?"

Thurston had a decent day, but behaviourally was not his best. I knew right then what was probably coming. The dreaded SICK. I get him home after one scant errand that took maybe 5 minutes. I took his temp. He was 99. Ugh. Ok. Well I canceled the big plans for the night erring on the side of conservative, and decided that we would still go to the trunk show sale that one of my coworkers was showing his leather work for the first time. I really wanted to support him, and expected to only be out for an hour at most.

Thurston and I had a lovely time at the trunk show, a bit surprisingly. We saw a couple of people we know, got some bumpy water (what Thurston calls mineral water) and a cookie. All was good. We get home, temp is still 99, which is high range of normal for him. But still a possible indicator of what may come. Well as this post did. Actually in the time of writing this post, Thurston puked 3 times. The time out and writing this helped diffuse my irritation. I am in no way angry with Thurston. I am angry that he has been sick every other week of late. I am angry at the fact it takes him 3 to 4 days to get well. I am angry that I become a hermit when he is sick. I get angry because when I run out of ibuprofen there is nobody to go and get it for me, and I have to take my kid with a high fever to Walgreen's to get more.

Blake told me before I had Thurston that parenting was best done as a team sport. It is moments like this when I absolutely agree. There is no pinch hitter. It is me for every puke, every temperature reading, every sheet change, every laundry load, every sip of water and every tear from my baby. This is a hard and lonely business.

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