Self-Portrait, a Timeline, and General Whining

In honor of Self Portrait Day, I give you my current state of not-so-well-being:

(Click here to create your own South Park character)*

As you can see, it’s been months since I’ve had my hair cut or my eyebrows done. (In fact, I’ve been to the salon ONCE since Baby Boy was born almost eleven months ago.) And I’m wearing my glasses today, because my eyes are too tired and bloodshot to even think about putting my contacts in. (As an aside, though, I think the red sweater compliments the red streaks in my eyes very well, don’t you?)

* * * *

My apologies for being MIA for so long. (And many hugs and thank-yous to those of you who emailed me to make sure I hadn’t run off with the UPS man. — They’ve already started wearing those cute little brown shorts around here. ROWR. Ahem. But I digress…)

As a way of updating you on…well, just about everything that’s been going on around here…I present a timeline:

May 4 – Wednesday: Baby Boy slept all night, without waking up and fussing, for the first time in several weeks. Unfortunately, Deputy Dad and I did not reap full benefits from the slumberfest, since we were both up coughing off and on during the night. (You know that lingering cough you get at the end of the cold/allergy-type crud? The relentless cough that keeps you up nights and feels like it will NEVER leave? Yeah, THAT cough. We’ve both got it.)
–I leave work at 11:00 AM to go pick up Baby Boy from the sitter, after she calls to let me know he’s had diarrhea all morning.

—-Oh, yeah. That reminds me. If you don’t have children, you’re probably not accustomed to the frequent discussions of baby bowel movements, as well as the various and sundry solids, liquids, and gasses that are generated by and evacuated from babies with extreme prejudice, on a regular basis. If you’re not comfortable with those topics, you might want to stop reading now. This is entry is rated PG for Pretty Gross.—-

May 4 – Wednesday (cont’d): I’m trying to figure out what Baby Boy has eaten that might have upset his tummy to such a degree, when the diarrhea gives way to fever and vomiting. Ahh, that explains it. It’s a stomach bug. I spend the rest of the day and evening trying to make him comfortable and keep him hydrated, forcing Pedialyte® down his throat every twenty minutes.
No more vomiting or diarrhea after about 5:00.

May 5 – Thursday: Although understandably tired, Baby Boy seems to be over his stomach bug. He spends the day home with Daddy, with no more signs of the vicious virus, and Mom and Dad breathe a sigh of relief.

May 6 – Friday: Baby Boy returns to the sitter, so Deputy Dad and I could join Miss Attitude on the kindergarten field trip. When we pick him up from the sitter, she says he “moved his bowels” a few times, and they were all “loose.” (She always says “moved his bowels.” She’s an older lady, and those senior citizens, they’re all about the Moving of the Bowels, I tell ya.) When we try to give Baby Boy his allergy medicine that night, he immediately throws it up. We (stupidly) give him the rest of the dose, only to have him throw up again. We (again, stupidly) decide he must have some residual nausea from the bug, because come on, he’s over that already, right?

May 7 – Saturday: Deputy Dad is working day shift, so I (stupidly…SO stupidly) decide to load up all three kids and drive to [nearby town we often go to] to go shopping for the girls’ softball stuff. They both need cleats, shorts, etc. No big deal, right? (So, so stupid) Here’s where things start to get (literally and figuratively) VERY MESSY.
Baby Boy starts fussing in the middle of Academy. I only have to lean over to smell…umm…that smell…that unmistakable stench of baby diarrhea. He’s getting fussier by the millisecond – and understandably so, I’d be fussing too, if I was sitting in…well, a load of crap – so I pick him up and hold him close to comfort him, as the girls and I make a beeline for the restroom. As I lay him down on the changing table, I realize something is very, very wrong. Wrong as in…HUGE, GIGANTIC wet spot, all over the front of my shirt. Wet spot? What’s tha–Oh, HELL NO. The stomach bug? The short-lived stomach bug, that had gone away so quickly? Had come back WITH A VENGEANCE. The child had EXPLOSIVE diarrhea, which had made its way OUT the top of his diaper, and now he and I were both covered in rancid baby diarrhea from the waist up. GAG.

After spending twenty minutes in the restroom, getting Baby Boy cleaned up and his clothes changed (there wasn’t much I could do about my own sad, smelly state), the kids and I RUSH out of the store, and SPEED to the pediatrician’s office. On the way there, I was bawling on the phone with the nurse. “I don’t know what’s wrong. He was sick, then he was better, now he’s sick again. He just had EXPLOSIVE diarrhea in the middle of the store, and I’m covered in it…[blah, blah, blah]” I’m sure I sounded like a real nut-job.

We saw the doctor. Stomach flu. Lasts about 5 days, usually. Getting better, then sick again isn’t abnormal. They call that a bi-phasic virus, or some such technical, medical jargon, mumbo-jumbo.

—-It occurs to me this is taking way too long. Must condense.—-

The rest of the weekend was a blur of dirty diarrhea diapers, cranky baby, and exhaustion. Deputy Dad worked day shift Saturday and Sunday, which left me home to deal with a sick baby and his two squabbling sisters most of the weekend. Then he got called in to work day shift on Monday, too, so I took off work to stay home with Baby Boy, since he STILL had diarrhea. ACK!

Finally, finally he was feeling better Tuesday afternoon. But his sleeping schedule is TOTALLY and COMPLETELY screwed up. He’s getting up several times a night, and usually expecting to be nursed every time. I’m absolutely exhausted. So is Deputy Dad, who is kind enough to get up with Baby Boy and try to console him, but is (obviously) lacking the necessary equipment to nurse the ravenous little monster.

Oh, and Mother’s Day? Did you say Sunday was Mother’s Day? HA! I LAUGH in the face of Mother’s Day. Mother’s Day done took me out behind the toolshed and whooped my ass, leaving me lying in a pool of my own blood….well, leaving me up to my elbows in baby diarrhea, anyway. Let’s just say, this weekend ranked right up there as one of the worst weekends EVER. Not just Mother’s Day weekends, but ANY weekend. It was just awful.

So. There you have it. The dog-ate-my-homework, sun-was-in-my-eyes, long-drawn-out excuses why you haven’t heard from me lately. Even with Baby Boy feeling better, I’m just too damned exhausted to be much fun right now. Plus, after missing work both Friday and Monday, I’ve been absolutely swamped at the office this week.

Maybe we’ll get some rest soon, and I can be back in top form. In the meantime, at least you’ll have this post to look at, rather than the poopy poetry you had to stare at for almost a week. (Sorry ’bout that.)

…Now returning to the corner, where I will curl up and pray for rest…

*I’ve never watched South Park. We don’t even get Comedy Central. I stole the link from Bucky’s blog.


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