Strep, Love and Vomit

I am experiencing the phase in life that many parents of young children know all too well.  My children are ALWAYS sick.   Two weeks ago the entire family enjoyed a good old fashioned case of strep throat courtesy my four year old.  This week it was pink eye.  In between was perhaps the worst of all.

I went downstairs to check on my babies and could smell the foul aroma wafting out of their room, through the hallway and into the playroom (it seriously filled like 2000 square feet of space).  Any physician worth their salt can instantly identify that smell.  It was rotavirus.

I carefully investigated to determine who the culprit might be.  It was Baby Bird, the two-year old.  After lifting her unconscious body, it became immediately apparent that she had soiled her entire backside and the bed.  I plucked her out of bed and placed her on a towel in the bathroom.  In an emergency, the best thing to do is to call for help, so I leaned out into the hallway to yell for my husband.

Big Mistake.  Huge.

By the time I lean back in, Baby Bird has woken up and is spewing forth like a tiny Linda Blair.  It just keeps coming. Did you know that a twenty-four pound baby can hold up to a gallon of vomit?   Me neither.   It was on the floor, walls, my clothes, her clothes, in our hair, everywhere.   We put her in the bath and I set about cleaning up the puke when suddenly my husband, who is a sympathetic puker by the way, starts yelling for me as she starts puking in the tub and there is just so much puke.  Did I mention puke?

After a bazillion towels, a gallon of bleach, some plastic bags, and several days of reflection, I have come to one very important conclusion: Thank the Good Lord for Puke.

I have so many reasons to thank God in this situation.

  1. I have a wonderful husband who was willing to help me with my sick child.  Many women are in this parenting thing all alone.
  2. I had an almost endless supply of towels to clean up after my child and a totally endless supply of clean, fresh water.   I just think about some poor woman living with her toddler in a grass hut somewhere.  I am sure they have rotavirus in grasshutistan.  This poor lady doesn’t have an endless supply of clean fresh linens and clean fresh water to take care of their child.  Heck, they do not have enough clean fresh water for their child to drink probably.  Look at me with all my clean fresh water and towels.
  3. Being a doctor,  I had a readily available supply of nausea medication to medicate my child with.   I didn’t have to make the choice to blow this month’s budget in order to take care of my sick child.
  4. I have wonderful people willing to help me with my sick child while I work that I can implicitly trust with her care.  Did you see where I said people?  As in several.  As in several people that I can trust with my sick child.   Some people have NO support like this in their life.

So, yeah, I think I am pretty lucky with this stomach virus thing.  It could be a lot worse and is for many.  Thank you Lord again for your goodness in showing me how great I have it. wp-1486785740138.jpg

 

College Prep

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Just like any parent, I really want my girls to have the opportunity to go to college if that is what they desire. To be clear, I don’t believe college is for everyone and there are many paths that are valid such as trade school, apprenticeship, military service and many others that are good choices for different personality types. Contrary to popular belief, college is NOT for everyone. For some, college leaves them forty thousand in debt with a degree in a career that they will never get a job in and have no ability to unburden themselves from this crippling burden. Most of these unfortunate souls can be found clutching their liberal arts degrees while rocking back and forth in their parent’s basements. I don’t want my children to live in my basement forever. I know they are only two and eight-months old, but it is never too early to start considering their education.

The other day I get a phone call at work from my husband. Z has thrown up for the first time.   I shudder with the reflection of my own first vomit experience. It was chili. I was about Z’s age. I vividly recall spewing it onto the colorful carpet of my room. I remember a chili bean being stuck in my nostril for weeks.   I had immediate concern for the trauma that my two-year old had endured.

According to my hubby, he found her in bed with vomit in her hair and had to clean the sheets, the million stuffed animals, and the two-year old (who hates having her hair washed). I felt really bad for him because he is a sympathetic puker.   Hubby showed tremendous fortitude in his biohazard clean up duty.

It disturbed me all day. I was concerned about my baby girl sleeping in that soiled mess for hours.   I felt various emotions. I was sad, empathetic, and a little guilty when I reflected upon all the candy-corn I let her eat the night before (which was probably the cause of the incident in the first place).

When I arrived home I gave Z a big hug and asked her about the incident, “What happened last night Z?”

“I made my bed all sticky and icky and I made a weird noise.”

“A weird noise?” I asked with curiosity.

“Hoooooooouuuuuahhhh,” she responded.

I am familiar with this noise both personally and professionally, “So why didn’t you call for Mommy and Daddy?”

She considered for a moment and with a shrug said, “I just put my pillow and some animals over it and went to sleep on the other end of my crib.”

It was this instant that I realized that all my efforts were successful and this child of mine is far more prepared for college than I had previously suspected.

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