I wrote too soon!

So remember how I said I was a tiny bit tired of getting barfed on? Well, I think I might have jinxed myself a bit. This is how it all began:

On Friday night, we were travelling home from a friend's house around 10pm and I remarked to the husband that I felt a bit queasy. Two hours later I was hugging the porcelain throne wishing that the next six hours wouldn't be as miserable as the last five minutes. I was wrong. Saturday morning came and I was feeling much better, despite the lack of sleep and stomach juices. I thought the worst was over. I was wrong. Again.

On Sunday night Little J puked big time. We thought it was because we had just introduced him to yogurt and his little tummy couldn't handle it. But then it just kept coming. He woke up in the middle of the night, nursed and then barfed. He then went promptly back to sleep and made me a bit jealous. This continued into Monday morning and it didn't show signs of stopping. I finally got over being grossed out by getting puked on. I was somewhat damp throughout most of the day, and I changed my clothes twice because of the volume of vomit. I gave Little J small amounts of PediaSure throughout the day, and he's feeling much better now, and has kept his dinner down.

I spent 90% of my day like this. My butt's
still a little numb from sitting that long, but
it was worth it.

I thought it was difficult for me to go through this bug, but it was a thousand times worse to see Little J go through it. He was so thirsty, but I couldn't give him any more to drink because he would barf, and he didn't understand this concept. So, to express his frustration with my parenting techniques, he would cry/scream. And then I would start crying because he was crying and we were a mess of tears and barf. I'm pretty sure my neighbors knocked on my door at one point because they thought I was abusing my child. I didn't answer the door because I had just gotten him to sleep and I didn't want to move him and release the screaming Kraken. So I spent most of my day pinned to the rocking chair because when the babe is sick, he just wants to be cuddled (something I think he inherited from his father).

I was ok with it.

Having a baby sleep on you is a beautiful experience. I made an effort to appreciate having him close because I know in a couple of years, he will loathe being cuddled. I may or may not have teared up a bit when he was sleeping on me.