This Christmas, my family went up to the DC area to see my parents, along with both of my sisters and get a chance to meet my 4-month old niece. We had a lovely time and I wish we could have stayed longer, but this post is not about Christmas, my family, or anything like that. Perhaps another time I can regale you with story of the Clan. This post, however, is about why we were late coming back.
We were fully intent on returning home on the 29th, Saturday. We had an obligation at church on Sunday that we wanted to fulfill. Now, there had been some talk on snow falling the night before and we weren't certain we wanted to risk driving in it to come home. Mom and dad said that they would watch Addy all day so that if we wanted to stay, we could just relax. I had, in fact, been counting on it, and let myself get caught in a somewhat productive conversation with my sister (the one with the baby had left already) about writing until 3 or 4 in the morning. But when we woke up that morning, we learned that the weathermen had, lo and behold, lied to us yet again. The streets were clear. Huzzah... time to pack the car. But first, breakfast!
Addy is being her happy self; at least after I give her some milk to drink she is. She likes to wander around the kitchen watching me make breakfast for her while drinking her milk in her sippy cup. I had actually intended to make breakfast for Addy and bring up some more for Amy! I broke open 5 eggs, added parmesan and milk and was about to add some herbs (I make GOOD eggs) when Addy suddenly vomits all over the kitchen. Twice. I'm practically standing in the stuff and so is she. So, of course, other than crying, the first thing she does is try to walk through it to me. I toss the eggs aside and plead with her to stay where she is while I go around the island to drag her out of her own stomach contents. As I hold her in the air trying to figure out how to keep my mother's operating-room-clean house from getting even more contaminated, I realize that we aren't going to be going anywhere that day. Well, at least I have eggs for Amy, I'm sure she'll love breakfast in bed.
I take Addy upstairs to give her a bath, but on the way up I run into Amy. Guess what! She's feeling nauseous, too! Yeah, definitely not going anywhere. We give Addy a bath and change her clothes, then I head back downstairs to the wonderful smell that is now filling the kitchen. After cleaning it, the LAST thing I want to do is eat. Oh, and Amy only wants toast. I guess... my parents might like eggs?
I've never had to handle a truly sick Addy before, and let me tell you, she doesn't like being sick. It is hard to get her to calm down when she's not feeling good. I'm watching her, trying to do laundry (now that there is definitely laundry that needs to be done), still packing things up in the hope that we might leave on Sunday, calling a variety of people to make sure that our obligations are church are met and our cats back home are fed, and I'm dead tired and have a headache by 8am. Dad doesn't get up until about 10:30, mom about 11:30, and my sister until... well, it was past noon.
Eventually the eggs do get eaten, or at least most of them do. Although very grateful to have parents to watch Addy, by the time they are up and ready to do so I am "done" and so is she. She didn't feel well enough to take a nap, which always spells disaster, and eventually we realize that all she really wants is me. Now it does feel good to be loved and needed, but at the same time it feels good to have a break from it now and then.
The next day, Amy felt well enough to head home, and Addy hadn't thrown up for about 24 hours, so I pack up the car in record time and off we go! It was later than we would have liked, nonetheless, and by the end of the 10-and-a-half-hour-drive both Addy and Amy have had enough. I've never been so happy to go to sleep at 9:30.
One would think this is the end of the affair. I certainly did. The next day was New Year's Eve and we had made plans with some close friends to celebrate an early New Year's countdown with Addy (Sesame Street likes to do it at 8). Afterwards, we were going to head over to another friend's house to have the real thing, this time with games, alcohol, and bad-for-you foods. It was going to be perfect! Sure, Amy wasn't feeling good again but... oh, she's REALLY not feeling good... well, Addy and I can go and we can still make it to.... oh, one of our friends got bronchitis... We quickly realize that it is safer if we don't expose Addy to bronchitis. Curses! It seems everyone I know is sick. Our friends decide to reschedule. Amy was going to stay home with Addy anyway, so I'm hoping our other friend can make it with me to the party.... but he doesn't want to leave his wife sick at home with bronchitis on New Year's Eve. Now I get to go to the party alone and feel guilty about it! :P
Well, the party was great. I got to see some friends I hadn't seen in a while because they moved! I had some delicious food and we were playing Rock Band. I was just about to start up one of my favorite songs to sing (Panic Attack by Dream Theater) when my phone rings. It's Amy. Addy threw up again.
I rush home to find Addy in the bath, her room wreaking of vomit, and vomit all over her crib. We cleaned her up, did the laundry, cleaned the crib (though I'm still trying to figure out how to get the smell of vomit out of a stuffed animal), and I put on The Adventures of Tintin while holding Addy. It takes a while before we get her to sleep again...
So, I ring in the New Year with my sick wife and kid. The next day I find out BOTH of our close friends got bronchitis. Several of my friends on Facebook are out-of-commission because of various sicknesses. Amy's lab partner has been out sick. It is only a matter of time before it gets me, too.
My resolution for this year? Don't go crazy taking care of sick people.
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