Much of this will be preamble, but I think it’s necessary to really set up the situation at the end.
It’s been a rough week. Rough for everyone in the family, and rough for Daddy in a different way. I of course understand that this is really only rough in relation to what is normally a very easy-going life.
Last Saturday, while out with Joshua, he got sick and ended up vomiting all over the both of us. It appears to have been the peak of some 12- or 24-hour bug, as once he did that, he was fine. But still, we had to sequester him all weekend long. It’s very tricky to keep a toddler who has energy inside a house and away from all other people. This was the easy part, though.
Monday, Janelle began not feeling well. We came home early from work and she began to be concerned she was getting the grown-up version of whatever Joshua had. So, she sequestered herself pretty thoroughly from the kids lest we begin an illness loop with Joshua or just plain get the 7-month-old Matthew sick at all. This meant that Daddy was on full-time double-duty, bottle-feeds included. (Again, shout out to the hard-working single parents, who are clearly a breed apart)
Tuesday was more of the same. Daddy sleeping on the couch downstairs to avoid germs, Mommy feeling pretty sick and Joshua chugging along. I had to stay home to take Matthew to the doctor, due to a puffy, irritated eye that resolved itself by the time we got to the doctor (because of course it did).
Wednesday was probably the hardest day. Janelle was feeling pretty bad, but didn’t have an appointment until Thursday. Urgent care didn’t have an appointment for her until 8:30 that night, but with occasional numbness of limbs and noticeable heart palpitations, it wasn’t time to screw around. Janelle and her Mom headed to the ER and they were there until about 2:30am. Short version: she’s okay but a combination of a viral infection making her feel nauseated and the fact that she’s a lactating mother meant that she was way low on nutrients and despite the fact that she had been steadily taking in water, she was dehydrated.
Thursday was, again, more of the same, but with a less-scared Janelle. Around bed-time, though, we found Matthew had a fever around 103-104 (underarm temperatures being dodgy).
Friday was more Daddy staying at home to help take care (and Noni was around as well for some grandma support, which is always helpful) and trying to get some work done.
And now we get to the story. Joshua had a great day. Good day at school. Nice afternoon. But after I put him to bed (too easily, I should have known) and headed downstairs to unwind and prep for the next day I hear the tell-tale click of his door opening. I bound upstairs before he can walk into his Mommy’s room or make enough noise to wake Matthew and he announces: “Daddy, I have to throw up.”
My brain flips into full-Dad-panic-fix-it mode and I throw open our door, flick on the bathroom light, open the toilet seat and guide him to it. He holds his head over the seat and starts dipping it in so far in I have to stop him before he dunks his face in the water. He stays there for about a minute, sort of making the same kind of faces and noises that a kid who doesn’t have to go to the bathroom uses when sitting on the toilet. Then he slowly stands up, and looks at me with a big grin on his face.
“You don’t have to throw up, do you?”
*shakes head* “No.”
My son. The comedian.
Leave a Reply