Last night I woke up before midnight because I heard crying. Being this happens every night (except for that one magic night this past week-he slept through the night for the first time in months and months!) I lurched out of bed and into C’s room. Where I found him asleep. You know, until I woke him. I turned around and sprinted to T’s room. He was sitting up in his bed absolutely wailing for me. He’d puked up his dinner. I hustled him into the bathroom where he could retch into the tub until I fetched the puke bucket when C started screaming. Z came out and took over with T so I could nurse C. I found T and Z on the sofa once C was settled. We decided I’d clean up the pukey bed and Z would stick with T for the night. The bed was cleaned and remade and the laundry doing its thing and I was back in my bed by 12:30. C was up twice more to nurse, but slept in until 7:30, which is unheard of for him. That’s when I went downstairs and found out T had thrown up every hour until 3. He slept until 6 and puked again. While Z was explaining this T grabbed the bucket and started heaving. Z trudged upstairs to get a couple hours of sleep.
Later in the morning I said to him, “You know what is messed up about parenting? I cleaned up puke and did laundry and nursed a baby three times in the middle of the night. And I feel lucky. Compared to you my night was awesome.”
T is a sick little guy today. Still can’t really keep anything down, but the poor kid is hungry. He gets to watch all the TV he wants, hasn’t left the sofa. Except for a bath to clean him off after he didn’t make it to the bucket. Here’s hoping he is on the mend soon. And that the one time C threw up today was some sort of wild coincidence that doesn’t mean he is getting it, too…..