Houston, we have puking. Not baby spit-up, but grown up throw up. The boy’s been sick all weekend, and it’s been, something. I think I’ve learned more about laundry than taking care of a sick kid. I’ve had to clean countless kinds of stains from shirts, pants and rugs. I’m including the red wine I spilled on myself–because I wouldn’t have been drinking such a full glass if it wasn’t for all the puking!
The hardest part is not feeding him. He really doesn’t want to eat, and the doctor said not to feed him for 24 hours, but I’m Hungarian, and as Italian mamas, we’re feeders. I keep giving him toast, or yogurt, or milk, and then I have to deal with the fallout. But he won’t drink the Pedialyte, and I’m worried that he can’t live on just watered down apple juice. Plus, I think part of the toast is staying down.
I feel I have now totally arrived as a mom. There are other milestones to come–tantrums at the store, competition with other moms at school events, the teen years; but I’ve gotten through the rush of pregnancy, the bonding of breastfeeding and now the hazing of the first stomach virus. I’m part of Mu Omega Mu now. And I’m a legacy, so you can’t ever get rid of me.
March 31, 2008 at 2:39 am
You put a smile on my face… welcome!