Sick

Do you know what's worse than throwing up in the shower? Throwing up in the shower shortly before your toddler wakes up while your husband is out of town. Oh and it's also the first day of your period.

Gavin got this bug on Sunday. He woke up and proceeded to vomit three times in under an hour. During that time he also pooped more than his diaper could hold, causing a slightly more contained, but no less gross, mess. I comforted him. I did laundry. I mopped and scrubbed and somehow also managed to eat and drink my tea, because problems like these loom so much larger when I have no food in my belly and no caffeine in my blood. By 8:00 we were chilling on the couch with a pile of books, and it was like nothing had happened.

I should have been expecting it to hit me, because every time Gavin gets sick, I get it, too. And I often get it worse. Or maybe it's that it's just that he's got this combination of stoicism and cheerfulness that makes it hard to determine how sick he actually is. The only time Gavin truly seemed out of it was when he had a fever that brought that glazed look to his eyes. But even that barely lasted for twelve hours.

So of course I got his stomach bug. And of course I got it worse than him. Or at least it took me longer to recover. I finished rinsing the conditioner out of my hair while sitting in the shower. Then got out, got dressed, and slowly and deliberately went about my morning routine. Gavin was only sick for an hour, and I was already feeling better, so I was actually planning to go to work. I ate a single bite of my buttered toast and drank two sips of water before I started to worry about my ability to keep food down.

But the thing about parenthood is that you just keep going. You find these reserves of strength that you never knew you had before. I'm sure if Kevin had been around I would have collapsed right back into bed for another hour. But Gavin was waking up and Kina was whining to go outside and even if I felt comfortable calling someone at 6 in the morning it's not like they'd get to my house quickly enough to actually help me.

I got Gavin up and dressed and gave him his cheerios. I fed Kina and let her into the backyard. And then I realized that I didn't have the wherewithal to walk Kina. So I put on some Sesame Street and hoped Kina would pee before I had to bring her back in.

Twenty minutes later, Gavin and I were in the car. I had my tea and my lunch, still planning to go to work. I was teetering on that knife's edge between wanting to collapse on the couch and being sure that I'd feel fine in another hour. Also, my Fitbit was nearly out of battery and I'd left my charger at work. Then again, Kina may very well poop in the house since she didn't get her morning walk.

I finally decided to just go home. I couldn't stomach the thought of my tea, nothing at work was pressing, and I knew I'd need all my energy for our weekend trip to Boston. Plus I had thrown up in the shower not two hours earlier. What kind of idiot even contemplates going to work after a morning like that? (No, seriously, I cannot figure out what was going through my brain.)

Kina got to spend all day in the backyard, and I got to watch six straight hours of television. By the time I had to pick up Gavin from daycare, I was feeling almost entirely better. We had a fun evening together, and I ended up feeling like a good and successful mom when all was said and done.

Kevin's going to be out of town for another month, and I'm sure it'll be a long month (Gavin asks "where's daddy? five-ten times a day). But after this mini-crisis I feel like I can get through anything. Though I do wish I'd stop getting sick so often.