to really recharge the old batteries. We (the wife anyway) are going to hit the halfway mark in the gestation of offspring number two this very week, and we have been talking a little about stuff like decorating, moving my nursery, middle of the night feedings, errands with a newborn, etc. Even thought it’s only been a little more than three years, you forget a lot of the stuff that was second nature “way back then.”
(I preface this blog with this for reasons you’ll know shortly).
So Saturday, the wife was involved in birthday festivities for her middle sister Caca, and that entailed going to another mom’s house to help setup. She was kind enough to take the urchin with her so I could seriously embark on the process of vacating my current home office (soon to be the bedroom of bambina numero dos) and doing all the things that go with that. You know, emptying and sorting boxes that you haven’t touched since you moved into your last house, trying to figure out why you saved those 5 ¼ floppy disks the last three times you moved, and stumbling across pictures that bring back some great memories. It’s quite a time consuming chore as you all may know.
Anyway, I got two full dressers and one nightstand emptied and sorted (and their contents disposed of when necessary) and got all that furniture moved to the basement, or as I refer to it, the Goodwill collection staging area. Either Goodwill is going to love me or my trash men are going to hate me. But either way, this shit’s on the way out.
After completing (well, nearly completing) this task, the wife got home with the urchin and we finished up the afternoon playing and reading and watching the Busch race.
Molly was leaving around 4pm and was planning to be home “not too late.”
So Lauren and I got Cooley’s pizza, had an ice cream (she did, not me) and watched a little TV before bedtime. She had been a little whiney Saturday, but that happens when you’re three, so I let it go…
Anywho, while cleaning out my office, I had stumbled across a couple of medals from our dart league years ago, and Lauren put one on. I explained that what she was wearing was now called “ba-LING.” She struggles with saying her L’s, so if she rushes it, it comes out “bwing.” By pausing and emphasizing the L, she not only says it right but adds a little flava as well.
So, I’m getting her ready for bed, and she flops down on the bed, which causes the “ba-LING” to fly up and hit her just below the right eye. No cut, but there’s a mouse for sure. To be nice, I give her a little Tylenol and put her to bed. Then it’s off to race-chat and some cold beer and poker online whilst watching the Craftsman Truck race on Speed. (I am one multitasking sumbitch, aren’t I?)
Anyway, I wasn’t feeling my usual chipper self, so I passed on an evening at the Thomas kitchen table and just chilled. The wife got home about 11:30pm, and we got to bed shortly thereafter and I was asleep about 12:30am. Quite the good little boy, if you must know.
Then, without warning, at 2:45am, the urchin is calling me. I go to check on her and she asks “can I sweep wiff you in yoi bed?”
‘No’, I think and then say, “but we can sleep here in your big girl bed”. She graciously accepts and it’s back to sleep…sort of.
She wakes about an hour later, and now she’s really really hot. I mean, hot to the touch hot. So I take her into our room and we proceed to get some cooler pajamas, some juice and some Tylenol, which we give her at about 4:05am. At 4:15am, while laying on her back next to me, she mutters something I can’t understand…and then pukes. On my pillow. Sweet.
The wife hussles for the trashcan, and I sit and try to comfort my now sad and retching little girl. She pukes a few more times, mostly purging the juice and Tylenol and then she seems better. We realize at this point that we’re up for the day on a little more than two hours of sleep, so we shower up, give stinky a bath (to unstuck the Tylenol/puke hair) and head downstairs to start our Sunday.
We watched some Noggin, some Boomerang, and got some Saltine crackers and ice chips to stay down, and at this point I was convinced that what had made her chunder WAS the Tylenol on an empty stomach. We got some more in her, and her fever responded immediately.
A couple of hours later, it was bacon, an egg, and a bagel with butter and cream cheese (her choice). She ate two pieces of bacon, a quarter of the bagel, and drank her juice and seemed to be coming around nicely. Of course, she was tired since she’d been up basically since a little after 2:30am, so I took this with a grain of salt.
The wife and child were resting around 10am, so I decided to take that opportunity to trump Hurricane Dennis and I mowed the front and back yard, blew off the driveway, got about 500 pounds of charcoal moved to the basement, showered, and was ready for the rest of my day.
When I came back downstairs, the urchin had crawled up on the sofa and fallen asleep upright with her face buried in the cushion. It was cute, so I took a picture. (I will be posting the picture shortly).
The rest of my day was “supposed” to consist of a trip to Sam’s to look at some safes and pickup ABT fixin’s for that afternoon / evening. ABT’s are peppers stuffed with cream cheese, some meat (Li’l Smokies today) and wrapped in bacon and grilled until the bacon’s crispy.
These too will be posted as soon as they’re off the camera.
We got home from our trip to Sam’s, which was as always, a fun trip, and the wife started the two-hour process of prepping the ABT’s. Lauren watched whatever on TV and I cleaned out the Egg in anticipation of our snacks.
Repeating the Tylenol seemed to keep Lauren feeling okay and kept her fever down, but in her state of tiredness, she confused yawning with needing to vomit, so every time she’d yawn, she’d reach for the giant pail we had placed in the den for just such an event. This was also a little fun and more than a little sad.
I watched the race while cooking the ABT’s and then I walked back thru the den and (GASP) found Lauren asleep at 4:45 in the afternoon. Now I know she’d been up basically for 14 hours and was obviously tired, but this was going to pose a problem down the line. I chose to let her sleep while I cooked, and then woke her (which took some doing) around 6:15pm for some juice, Tylenol, and a dinner of Easy Mac. My thinking was to give her something that wasn’t too tough to chuck up if need be.
By the way, the only thing I enjoyed more than the Bud car winning was Jeff Gordon running the way he did. Yes, Mike Bliss wrecked him out, but his day was doomed to being not much better than where he finished anyway. That team is lost about everywhere now, despite having the point-leader as a teammate. I find myself snickering at the possibility of the 24 car not making NASCAR’s Chase for the Championship. (Please insert your own evil genius laugh here).
Anyway, we got Lauren dressed for bed and down at about 7:15 or so, and she was obviously exhausted. The storm was not helping our cause however, as the wind was blowing the rain against her windows so loud that she was actually scared, which she usually is not when it comes to rainstorms or any weather, for that matter.
I comforted her, got her talked into trying to sleep and she finally did just that shortly before 8pm. The wife and I then folded about 67 loads of laundry (hooray for Sunday nights) and collapsed in bed to watch TV and just exist for an hour before falling asleep. I am fairly certain I fell out at 9:50pm.
At exactly 3:45am, Lauren summoned me again. The wife commented that we should know she’s sick when she calls me. She will only call me when she’s not feeling well.
I went to get her and she was burning up again. This made 24 hours of a fever that was (depending upon which device was used) around 101 this time. I got all stuff and brought her to our bed, then got crackers and remembered the juice that I’d brought up before bed and got her some liquid and food in her stomach BEFORE giving her that bubblegum smelling pink shit.
She was obviously not feeling well because soon after, she actually went to sleep (about 4:15am) in our bed. That never happens. We avoid bringing her in there unless she’s sick because it’s not something I want to become a habit. We have a four-bedroom house so the chitterlings have their own rooms to sleep in (on most occasions).
I get up at 5:15am for work, and as I was leaving I realized that I had forgotten something upstairs. When I went back into my room, there was Lauren crying…a LOT, because I was leaving. It’s nice to be missed but seeing that made me quite sad.
So here I am with about seven hours of sleep the last two days typing a mindless, endless blog, and wondering if I should have even come in today at all.
Me thinks not.
What say you?