A Slimy Day

It's been one of those days where the entire house is awash in varied forms of snot, vomit, and drool. Yermmy.

I heard Israel wake up around 3:15 this morning, and when he kept fussing and coughing a little, I trudged across the hall to fill his bottle with milk. When I returned, I realized that he had peed through his diaper and onto his sheet. Stink. I wrestled him out of the two layers of clothes I had put him in to keep him warm, into a fresh 2 layers, and changed the sheet, as he lay drowsily drinking his milk.

Back to bed I zipped, where I lay awake, listening to him cough. And cough. And fuss some more. I already had the vaporizer running in their room, but after he kept coughing spasmodically, I thought maybe I should go add more salt. Back across the hall. It is now about 3:30. Israel is sitting up in his crib quietly. I peer blindly through the crib bars at him, and - is that? Oh no. Can it be - ? Crud. He is covered from head to toe in slimy milk curd vomit, which is also on his fresh sheet and his crib bumper.

I distastefully peel the nasty nasty nasty off of my child, who is suddenly wide awake and chipper with a Capital C. ChipPER. He squeals with delight and bounces around in his crib on his knees, crowing with joy. He vomits another time or two, this time on the bare mattress pad, just for the sheer fun of it. This is just painful. Gabe stirs over in his bed where he had previously been sleeping peacefully, and starts to moan and groan his woes. Oh. Joy.

Now it is 4:25 AM. Israel is playing cheerfully on the living room floor. Way more cheerfully than he plays during normal business hours. Gabriel is wadded up in his dinosaur blanket on the couch, refusing with screams of great sleepy disoriented distress to go lay in Mom and Dad's bed, because he is "scared". Tim is slouched painfully on the couch beside him. We are all having a GRAND time. This is one of those "worse" times, in the "for better or worse"'s.

Israel retires again for the night around 5. Tim goes down to sleep in the basement, and I tuck Gabe into bed with me. Where he lies quietly with eyes wide open, unable to sleep, tossing, turning, and digging his feet into my ribs. Every once in a while he starts to bellow about going back to his bed in Israel's room, which I do not want him to do, because let me tell you just how much I don't want Israel to wake up again. I distract him with stories, that trail off into silence mid-sentence, as I keep falling asleep. Gabe drifts off around 6:15 or so, and I gratefully follow suit.

Today Gabe extended the vomit fest. At least both times it was on hardwood or linoleum.
Both have been coughing a dry hacking cough all day. Israel is a virtual faucet of snot and drool.

Mmmmmmm.

The sweet, sweet days of childhood....

Grin.