The schedule is taken forcefully away

OH yeah. Went right out the motherfucking window, it did. Owen skipped two feedings Friday, two yesterday and a half today [so far]. He’s been sleeping a lot, too. And he had more than his usual one poo a day.

I’m not worried about him, though. I had my panic yesterday, but he’s in a great mood when he’s awake, he seems fine, and he has been eating, sometimes voraciously. He’s just not that interested in some of his bottles.

And when you consider what Iain is sleeping off at present, I’m not surprised.

Shortly after dinner [which Owen politely declined, seeing as he was dead to the world inside his crib] Iain began making “Honey, I don’t feel so well” talk. I figured he ate too much Tombstone Pizza [2 for $6 at Mars, such a deal, we stocked up].

I should have been paying attention. At 10 p.m., his dinner came back up — violently — the same way it went in.

Color me terrified. I have never seen Iain barf like that. Not even when he drank a liter or two of Hot Damn, straight up in a juice glass, back in college.

At 11 p.m., his lunch decided the party was over, too.

At midnight, breakfast had had enough.

1 a.m. his stomach started casting around for yesterday’s meals and brought up what it could. By 2 a.m. I think I had passed out, but no such luck for Iain. I understand this little party went on until the wee hours of the dawn.

The baby, however, after 13 long, restful hours in his crib [IN HIS OWN ROOM, OH MY GAWD], was ready to play at 6 a.m. I haven’t been to bed since.

I’ve been too busy praying to whatever gods are hangin’ out above our house to please, please, please spare me. I’ve been a good girl. I even vacuumed under the stove.

Let the worst of it be over, OK? I am quaking in fear at the thought of taking care of a possibly sick baby and a torn-to-hell husband while I’m praying to a host of porcelain gods. Dear sweet Jesus, don’t let that happen.

Which is why I’m not worried about Owen. I think he succesfully fought it off the last two days, and only missed a few feedings, and then passed on the whole stinking misery to his dad.

Poor Iain. He can’t even talk today, he’s been stripped raw.

I’m going to go knock on some wood now.

April 24, 2005 | Filed Under family unit

Comments

5 Responses to “The schedule is taken forcefully away”

Nicole on April 24th, 2005 9:44 pm

oh man. here’s hoping you and owen are spared!
Rachael on April 25th, 2005 7:00 am

Oh no! This happened to me whenever I ate Tombstone pizza as a kid. I was allergic to something in there, or so I presumed, I stopped eating it after it happened the third time in a row. I hope you and Cutest Baby Ever don’t catch it, I think vaccumming under the stove helps on the anti-flu kharma points!
Ty on April 25th, 2005 9:50 am

So you’re thinking stomach flu? Not food poisoning? Reason I ask is A) food poisoning obviously, isn’t contagious, and B) I had food poisoning last Wednesday—pure misery—so I totally feel for Iain…but uh, with food poisoning, it comes out both ends…don’t know if he had that problem. Ugh, sounds like no fun at all…Make sure he drinks some Gatorade!
MB on April 25th, 2005 7:54 pm

Still crossing our fingers; nobody else has erupted yet. Iain STILL sounds like Tom Waits, though.

But that is definitely the last time we buy Tombstone pizza.
debbie on April 25th, 2005 8:49 pm

ouch! hope you escape the wrath of whatever ails your poor hub!