Sunday, April 4, 2010

Starve a Fever, But Fill Up On Love

This is a blog about my life.

The glamorous moments (of which there are very, very few).

The not-so-glamorous moments (of which there are plenty).

And the downright-nasty-why-on-earth-is-she-telling-us-this moments.

Thus begins my past week...

Monday

6:30 pm  I just returned from the grocery store.  Unloaded the groceries, pawned my children on the in-laws, and proceeded to orchestrate a beatifully timed pasta/garlic bread/salad dinner (I'm feeling supermom-esque... even without the children).

As my husband retrieves our tiny tots I gracefully spoon the jarred pesto (okay, supermom-esque, but I'm no Giada) over the heated pasta.  Something rumbles in my stomach, but I ignore it and move in for the taste.

I debate the pesto-ness of that single piece of pasta... to add or not to add...

And then it begins.

7:00 pm  In true supermom fashion I manage to feed, bathe, and put both children to bed between and during waves of nausea (in my husband's defense he did try to help, but as the spawn of a compulsively controlling first-time mother my two year-old is a complete mama's boy, and while my husband does indeed possess nipples he cannot fool the baby).

7:30 pm - 11:00 pm  For the sake of decency I will keep this brief (though probably not brief enough).  Let's just say if I left the bathroom at all between these times it was for no more than one minute.  During this time I actually recalled labor memories to assure myself that I was not dying (though I told my husband multiple times "I can't do this," to which he responded, every time, "Do what?").

There were loads of wash and hot showers, but I will stop there.

11:00 pm  I find a half reclined position on the couch where I crash from pure exhaustion.

Tuesday

12:00 am  I roll over.  Run to the bathroom.

1:00 am  The baby cries.  He's hungry.  (And kind of a pain in the butt).  I yell at my husband to bring him to me.  Nothing.  I yell louder.  Nothing.  He is too far to reach and I know I can't move.  I throw my arm over the coffee table and find a hanger (no idea why there was a hanger in the living room).  I chuck it across the room and hit him square on the head.  He may not be happy, but he's up and the baby greets us both with a big goofy grin that I can't help but smile at (even though it may have me running to the bathroom).

2:30 am  So thirsty.  I yell at my husband to get me some ice.  He hears me the first time and gets me some ice.  I take a tiny bite.  Run to the bathroom.

5:00 am  So, so thirsty.  Baby's crying.  When my husband returns the baby to his crib I feel brave enough to request a glass of coke.  I take a sip... pause...

It tastes delicious.  Bubbles coat my throat and stomach.  I suck down the entire glass and for the first time all night I actually relax.

7:00 am  My husband whisks the kids to his parents before he leaves for work.

9:30 am  I spot a speck that could be a spider on the ceiling.  I haven't moved all morning, but I have to know.  When I get up I nearly pass out and move promptly back to the couch.  Though not before validating my suspicions... it is indeed a spider.  I call my dad (who is on his way to help me out) and tell him to hurry.  There's a spider to kill (he tells me that's more of my mom's thing, but he will do it for me).

9:30 am - 10:30 am  I try unsuccesfully to leave the sanctuary of the couch.  I want that spider gone.  Instead I lock my eyes on its location, vowing to keep watch until the moment of my dad's arrival.

10:30 am  I close my eyes for three minutes.  When I open them again the spider is gone.  I risk bodily harm to discover its new location, but to no avail.

10:45 am  My dad arrives and after relaying the sad spider story he spends the next hour delivering refreshments, unloading bags of goodies from home (not the good kind of goodies, the sick kind of goodies...saltines, soup, gatorade), cleaning up after my husband and even vacuuming my house (I, like my mother, cannot rest until all is tidy with the world).

He gathers the kids from my father-in-law.  He plays, he feeds, he diapers (possibly his first diapering experience... ever), he continues to wait on me.  He is a true superhero.

5:30 pm  My in-laws feed my whole family for dinner and bring me a tray of soup, crackers, and sherbert.

I still cannot eat and am so weak I can barely shift positions on the couch.

But I am grateful.

Wednesday

8:00 am  Feeling good.  Kept down one whole piece of toast and all kinds of liquids.  Bady woke only once to eat.

My dad slept in with the baby (which used to be our room, long story, more on that another time).  When the baby cried he brought him to the couch to eat then returned him to his crib.  When he placed him back in the crib the baby kept hold of his finger.  Instead of disentangling himself and returning to bed he stayed bent over the pack 'n play, sacrificing his finger to that tiny little fist until those endearing, little eyes succumbed to the pull of sleep.

And he was thrilled about it.

2:00 pm  Still feeling light-headed when I stand, but keeping down liquids and solids (of the white, carbohydrate variety) and feeling confident enough to send my dad home (with the help of my in-laws and husband). 

Thursday

8:00 am  Feeling human again.  Still no energy, but Elmo and I are taking care of the kids and I am doing alright on my own.

9:30 am  Completely out of patience.  Calling my father-in-law.  "Please remove my emotional mess of a toddler before we both explode!" 

1:00 pm  I google "foods to eat after the flu for energy" and begin a regimen of bananas, hard-boiled eggs, and yogurt.  Neaseau returns, but I am desperate so I continue on.

Friday

7:00 am  Wake up feeling 100%, though cautious.  Play in the yard.  Take a walk with the family.  Throughout the day I eat sandwiches and half of a hot fudge sundae.  Then I know this is real.  One of the most physically trying weeks of my life is officially over.

Saturday

8:00 am  My husband's phone rings.  His mother, father, and brother are competing in the three-people-with-the-stomach-flu-and-only-two-bathrooms olympics.  The outcome shall remain a mystery forever (I hope).

8:05 am  My husband complains his stomach hurts.  Immediately after he hangs up the phone.  I decide it is completely mental. 

9:30 am  It's not.



So if anyone missed me this past week in the blogosphere... that is where I was.  But don't worry... I'm back (at least until the next one falls)!

Linking up with The Crazy Baby Mama and her oversharing challenge!

8 comments:

  1. Oh yuck! You poor thing!!! Glad you are back and feeling better... Good luck to the rest of your family... I hope they get to feeling better very soon!

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  2. Oh that is so awful - I know exactly what you went through! When Mirabelle was 13 months old I got the stomach flu. I like you could not move. I was still BF my daughter and my husband had to carry her to me to feed as I did not have the strength to pick her up. Two days later when I finally was feeling ever so slightly human again but my husband had agreed to stay home so I could fully recover, I woke only to hear him running for the bathroom. That was so not a fun week!

    I hope you feel completely better soon. On the bright side it's a wonderfully effective and fast way to diet - I remember losing 7lbs in a week (all I could eat for days was dry toast!)

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  3. You poor dear! Thank heavens for your family!

    I laughed about the spider because i would not be able to relax either AND I can't rest if the house is not tidy!!!

    Here's hoping for a better week!!

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  4. Oh no, that sucks!! I'm so glad your family was around to help out. And I hope your husband doesn't have it as bad as you, b/c the last thing you want to do after a week of being sick is take care of someone else who's sick. Not fun.

    LOL about the spider, though. I would have done the same thing!

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  5. Oh my Word. Gee... it's too bad you live so far away so that I couldn't help you and then catch it, too! Yuck.

    Hope the entire clan is feeling better.

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  6. You poor thing. Stomach flus are the worst. Although I had the smallest of chuckles at your expense when you uttered, "I can't do this." The last stomach virus I had I remember feeling the same thing, "OMG I must be dying." Thankfully you've got a great support system. Hope you're feeling better, although likely serving as nurse to everyone else. Ugh.

    And for goodness sake, find that spider. ;)

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  7. oh my goodness! That's the wooooorrrssttt!!!! I do, however, appreciate the humorous rendition of it all! At least you can look back and giggle a bit, right???

    ..and, I'll bet hubby didn't have to throw a hanger to get your attention, right??? :)

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  8. wow sorry about that i had that few monhs back and it was not fun.... i had stuff coming out of both ends!!! hehehehe
    www.princesni.blogspot.com (pls follow me)
    thanks

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