Oh The Joys

**UPDATED**

I’ve decided that I’m an all-or-nothing sort of blogger.  Which should come as no surprise to those who know me, because that’s basically my M.O. in every sphere of my life.  It’s just my personality, I guess. 

Husband often says of me, "She has two speeds — stop and go." 

And that about sums it up.

For instance.  My blog.  I go days on end scrounging for topics to write about.  And then a day like today happens, and I have a veritable plethora of blog-worthy material. 

My previous two posts started out as one, but I realized that NO ONE was going to make it to the end of that colossal epistle, so I separated them into two.  Then I decided, after publishing both, that I should hold one back for a day that I have no time or inclination to blog. 

So if you already read the post about Dream Dinners, you’ll likely be seeing it again in the not-too-distant future.  If you didn’t read it, well, I’m sorry, but I’ll have to leave you in suspense for a little while longer.  I’m sure you haven’t even been able to sleep at night in anticipation of this exciting entry. 

Right.

So, those of you who have read and studied my 100 Things list, as any devoted bloggy-friend should, will already know that I am terrified of puking.  TERRIFIED. 

I would rather have a doozy of a 10-day headcold than a 12-hour puke bug. 

I would actually rather have a root canal than a puke bug.  And yall know how I lurv the dentist.  So much that I actually have a category for it.

Any-Who.  Yall know what’s coming, dontcha? 

I’ll give you the long version.  ‘Cause it’s my blog, and I can.  This morning, I was getting C ready for school, and R was fussing about something and pulling on her sleeve.  Because I’m such an attentive mom, I didn’t think much about it. 

I finished getting C dressed, and I finally looked over at R to see why she was still tugging at her sleeve.  It was all wet, and upon closer inspection, I recoiled at the undeniable odor of, you guessed it.  Puke.

I looked around and didn’t notice any more evidence, so I quickly changed her shirt and headed out the door to drop C at school. 

When we got back home, R was acting clingy; and even though she typically doesn’t nap until around lunchtime, I could tell she wanted a nap.  Sure enough, it only took five minutes of rocking until she was sound asleep.

Meanwhile, I found the "evidence" — a small puddle by my computer desk.  On the carpet, of course.  Greaaaaaaat.  It wasn’t much, though.  Hopefully her breakfast didn’t agree with her or something simple like that.

After a 2-hour nap, I could hear R over the baby monitor, chatting happily to her stuffed toys.  It was time to pick up C from school, so I got R out of bed and brought her downstairs, put her jacket on her, grabbed my keys and grocery list, and turned for the door.

At that very moment, she hurled all over herself, my jeans, my shoes, the grocery list, and the kitchen floor. 

Three times. 

While I stood there, rooted to the spot in utter horror, unable to collect my thoughts fast enough to make a dash for the toilet.  And, in retrospect, I was probably better off staying in one place.  It happened so fast that I would have achieved nothing more than distributing the grossness throughout the house.

So there I stood.  And wouldn’t you know, R was unphased.  Even right before she puked, she didn’t show any signs of discomfort.

In fact, she was quite intrigued by the whole production, and when she was done, she chattered and laughed all the way up the stairs to her bath.  She acted fine on the trip to collect C from school, and when we got home,  I went ahead and gave her a little banana and water while C was eating lunch. 

Feeding her was against my better judgment, but she was begging!  After C left the table, I discovered R scarfing down the remnants of her sister’s nutritious Kraft mac-and-cheese lunch.  She seemed happy as a clam, so I went on about my business.

But while I was typing this post, I heard the telltale sounds of regurgitation, and sure enough, the macaroni and cheese soon made its reappearance. 

Three times.

Three must be my magic number today.  Or something.

This time she was not chatting and laughing.  She was a sad, limp little thing with sick, droopy eyes.  Soon after I got her and the floor cleaned up, she crawled up into my lap and promptly fell asleep. 

So at the moment, she’s in her crib, and I’m off to try to catch up on the mountains of laundry that have been
created in our house today.  And just to think, I was almost caught up
for the first time in weeks.  A woman’s work is never done, eh? 

Meanwhile, I am living in constant fear, waiting for the next shoe to drop.  Hopefully, whichever shoe it is, won’t be me. 

What are the chances I can escape this nastiness?  I have used Chlorox Cleanup, Fantastic, and Lysol
Disinfecting Spray on every surface in the house, and I have changed my clothes twice and washed my hands at least 147 times. 

But with as much puke as I’ve contacted today, it will be a small miracle if I emerge unscathed. 

So, let the fun begin.

UPDATE:  I probably shouldn’t speak too soon, but after a verrrrrry long afternoon nap, R woke up her normal self.  She is begging to eat CONSTANTLY. 

At first I was fearful, but she’s been doing okay with Ritz and water and some applesauce.  No mac and cheese. 

In fact, I can’t imagine that I’ll have much of an appetite for mac and cheese any time soon. 

Right now she is dancing around the living room with her sister.  So it looks like a short-lived virus.

Now, let’s see if the rest of us can manage to avoid it. 

About Jo-Lynne Shane

Jo-Lynne Shane has written 2857 posts..

I'm a transplanted Virginian living in the suburbs of Philadelphia with my husband and three lively children and author of this mom blog. When I'm not buried under piles of laundry, you will mostly likely find me with my nose stuck in a book or hanging out on Twitter: JoLynneS.

• View all posts by Jo-Lynne Shane →
• Blog
• Twitter
• Facebook
• Google+