Up! Up! Upchuck.

Posted on Aug 2, 2013 in My Kid Stole My Cool

Up! Up! Upchuck. 0

I think moms should earn badges, like Girl Scouts.  There would be the “Labor and Delivery” badge (kind of a required one), the “Leaving the Child at Daycare Without Crying” badge, for a military spouse, a “Parenting with a Deployed Spouse” badge, and then there’d be the badge I earned last night, the “Surviving Your Child’s Stomach Flu Without Throwing Up Yourself” badge.  That’s a toughie to earn, because dealing with a vomiting child is really, really gross.

Without getting too graphic, Elisabeth’s diapers had indicated that her tummy was giving her trouble all day yesterday.  But she was acting like her normal, happy self, so I wasn’t worried.  At around 11:15 PM, I heard her tossing and turning in her crib and went in to check in on her.  Her stomach was making all sorts of unnatural noises.  Oh no, I thought, she’s gonna blow.  

She woke up, and I attempted to comfort her.  We moved from the crib to the rocking chair to the changing table and back again for the next 45 minutes.  Seated in the rocker, she pointed to the changing table and said, “Poo-poo!”  She knew what was coming.  She wanted to be prepared.  Admirable of her, really.

I took her back to the changing table because she demanded so and she lay down, fighting to stay awake.  I waited, listening to her tummy rumble, knowing an explosive diaper was inevitable.  But when?  As she drifted in and out of sleep I decided to move her back to her crib for comfort’s sake (hers and mine).  As soon as I put her down, she sprung to her feet.

“Lay down, Sweetie,” I coaxed.  “I’ll lay down next to you.”  I crouched next to the crib, one hand through the slats trying to cajole Elisabeth to lay down.

She leaned over the crib.  “Up! Up!” she exclaimed.  And then… upchuck.

I was caught off guard, to say the least.  I certainly had not anticipated or prepared for anything coming out of that end.  And let me tell you, crouching beside  a crib, peering up at your daughter is not where you want to be when she starts throwing up over the rails.

Though momentarily distracted by the fact that I had just been thrown up on, I quickly sprung into mom-mode.  By calling for my own mom.  (I could not be more thankful for dealing with Elisabeth’s first flu while visiting my parents rather than alone in Japan while Damon is deployed!)

“MOM!” I yelled, rushing Elisabeth down the hallway to the bathroom, vomiting trailing behind us.

“What? What’s going on?” she said sleepily from her bedroom.  (It was midnight, after all.)

“PROJECTILE VOMIT!” I yelled back.  It was all quite dramatic.

Moments later, my dad returned home from a late flight to find a house in chaos.  My mom was running around gathering cleaning supplies while I was stripping off Elisabeth’s puke-soaked pajamas.  “Ohhhh, baby!  It’s okay!  It’s okay!” I kept trying to reassure her while frantically cleaning her off.

Elisabeth, meanwhile, was completely fine, if a bit confused to find herself standing in the middle of the tub at midnight.  There was no crying, no distress, nothing.  She reached out one hand to me to clean off the goop, and then  was all, “Hey, bath time at midnight?  Par-tay!”  She started chatting to herself and playing with her bath toys and life was good.

My parents went to scrubbing the floor in the bedroom while I dressed in Elisabeth in a second pair of PJs.  We went into the living room to let Elisabeth settle down a bit.  Then she threw up again, on my mom this time.  Elisabeth was unperturbed and would have happily continued reading her books, had we not insisted upon wiping her down and changing her into a third pair of PJs.  (And I showered, because I was still covered in Elisabeth’s original vomit.  So lovely.)  At that point we retreated back to her bedroom, but I was uncomfortable leaving her in her crib alone.  I brought her into bed with me, and she cuddled up close.  Oh, my sweet, sick girl, I thought.  And then threw up on me again.  Luckily, this time I caught most of it in my hand, and we didn’t even have to change her PJs – a good thing because at that point we were out of clean PJs.

The newest face of the flu.

The newest face of the flu.

Around 1:30AM, Elisabeth finally fell asleep sprawled on top of me, the smell of vomit lingering around her head.  Her tummy continued to grumble.  She’s so going to throw up on me again.  She’s so going to throw up on me again.  I tried to be okay with that, because that’s what moms do; they let their sick kids throw up on them in the middle of the night.

Thankfully she didn’t.  She made it through the rest of the night, and although she has thrown up another three times today, she’s had the good sense to do it on my parents and my brother.  I have been spared!  (Though had she chosen to throw up on me, I would’ve been okay with that, I swear.)  And also although she’s thrown up three times today, she is currently sitting on her grandmother’s lap reading books and asking to go to the pool.  I’m beginning to think she’s faking, and this whole day has been a test.  In which case, I’m totally not okay with that.

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The Pretty, Pretty Princess

Posted on Jul 30, 2013 in Pregnancy Stole My Cool

The Pretty, Pretty Princess 0

Not gonna lie – I totally got sucked into the Royal Baby Watch.  So when Baby George was born last week, and Kate and William made their first appearance on the hospital steps as a family of three, I got giddy.  How cute did they look?  So cute.  …Maybe too cute? After leaving the hospital, a bunch of idiotic commentators who have apparently never seen a woman after giving birth seemed shocked – just shocked! – at Kate’s belly.  Some even deemed it unsightly.  What the heck, people?  First of all, stop hating on the hormonal new mom.  How rude.  Second of all, were we looking at the same princess? Kate looked freakin’ awesome!  …Maybe too awesome?  Seriously – who looks that fantastic 24 hours after having a baby!? I like Kate Middleton.  Or rather, I like the image of her that is portrayed in the media.  Though I’d probably rather head out for a night on the town with Pippa, Kate seems just lovely.  She has a great fashion sense, and she seems down-to-earth.  (Heck, she wears her gorgeous designer outfits more than once!) So relatable. But then she goes and has a baby, and turns up one day later looking like this: COME ON, Kate!  That’s just not right. I mean, good for her for looking Vogue-cover worthy a day after labor.  I’m just not entirely convinced she actually gave birth; Prince George may be an imposter baby.  I have a hard time believing that anyone – even Kate Middleton – looks that great so soon after delivering a baby.  Sure, I get that she is a princess and probably had a team of stylists that prepped her for her first post-baby public appearance, but still.  Is she a magic princess?  A magic princess who shows no signs of physical exhaustion or pain? When I was discharged from the hospital after having Elisabeth, I was wrecked.  After being awake for some ungodly amount of time (thanks, Elisabeth, for the 21 hours of labor), the next two nights in the hospital were anything but restful.  I remember doctors...

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Toilet Water and Other Toddler Fun

Posted on Jul 27, 2013 in My Kid Stole My Cool

Toilet Water and Other Toddler Fun 3

Kids are gross. A few days ago Elisabeth pooped in the tub during her morning bath.  The tub in my parent’s house is quite deep, so bathing her is a two-person job.  I stand in the tub to clean her and then hand her off to one of my parents to dry her off, lest I kill myself trying to get both myself and the wet, wiggly toddler onto dry land. So there I am, scrubbing her down, and she poops.  Now baby poop is nothing new for me.  But baby poop in the tub is.  It totally paralyzed me.  “Uh, I don’t really know what to do about this,” I said to my dad, waiting to dry Elisabeth off.  Then I realized I was standing in the poopy water and quickly extracted both Elisabeth and myself from the tub. At that point, you kinda think, Well, that’s the grossest thing that’s going to happen today.  But then it isn’t. Hours later, I noticed the house had gotten eerily quiet, which obviously meant trouble.  I found Elisabeth in my parent’s bathroom, dunking her sippy cup in the toilet, and then drinking from it.  There you have it – something grosser than a little poop in a tub. I thought I was off the hook when it came to icky-kid stuff – Elisabeth is a total priss.  The first (and only) time I tried finger-painting with her, she had an epic meltdown as soon as her hands touched the paint.  When we went to Hawaii last Christmas, she was terrified of the sand.  And the water.  And the grass.  When we visited Nagano for a ski vacation, the snow reduced her to tears.  I figured her for an indoor girl. Whenever she gets something (food, usually) on her hands, she reaches her hands out to me, completely disgusted by the utter filth that is covering her.  “Eh! Eh!” she whines.  Translation: Get it off me!  And if I don’t wipe her down quickly enough, she has another meltdown of finger-painting proportion.  Should she find so much a fleck of dust...

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What Not to Do with a Toddler: Travel by Air (Part Two)

Posted on Jul 22, 2013 in Travel Traumas

If you missed Part 1 and feel like catching up, here it is. To recap why air travel falls under my list of “What Not to Do with a Toddler”: 1) Toddlers require even more stuff than babies. 2) Air passengers seem to be a particular breed of mean and unhelpful. 3) Toddlers are tiny bundles of energy that must be allowed to exit their seats several times over the course of a 10-hour flight or they might literally explode.  And, the diapers. 4) Toddlers have the attention span of a gnat. I believe when I left off last, I was struggling to get Elisabeth to go to sleep.  Which brings me to reasons 5 and 6 to avoid flying with toddlers: 5) Toddlers are little rebels. That fasten seat belt sign means nothing to the little rascals! It was bedtime.  The fasten seat belt sign lit up.  Elisabeth pooped.  Rebel, I say!  I was thus forced to defy the sign and venture to the rear lavatory in order to change her diaper and put on her PJs.  When I exited, another mom traveling by herself – with TWO kids, bless her heart – was waiting.  Naturally, I offered to hold her baby so she could assist her older child in the bathroom.  (SEE PEOPLE – IT’S NOT THAT HARD TO HELP!) She then held Elisabeth so I could use the restroom, and I then watched both her girls while she took a turn.  It was all Kumbaya in the airplane bathrooms until a second fake-nice flight attendant showed up. “You really should return to your seats.  Should something happen…” Do you think I’m standing back here for fun? I nodded in acknowledgement and then ignored her.  Like I was going to ditch the one-year old in my arms and her five-year old sister.  As soon as the other mother was done in the restroom, we all promptly returned to our seats.  And then the battle to get Elisabeth to go to sleep began.  And so, #6… 6) When faced with the choice to repeatedly slither out of their...

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What Not to Do with a Toddler: Travel by Air (Part One)

Posted on Jul 17, 2013 in Travel Traumas

Welcome to the first edition of a series of posts entitled: What Not to Do with a Toddler. This is certainly not the first time I have written about traveling with a baby; it’s a common theme on my blog.  However this is the first time I have written about traveling with a toddler – a far more harrowing experience.  While traveling with Elisabeth during her infant stage was a scary prospect, the fact is she was small and light and generally quiet and could nurse anytime she became less than quiet.  What’s so hard about that?  But now as a toddler, she walks and talks and eats.  All. The. Time.  And she’s heavy and squirmy and too big for the bathroom changing tables.  And she’s social and likes to touch everyone and everything and she eats.  All. The. Time. Last month’s 10-hour international flight from Tokyo to Los Angeles caused me a great deal of pre-trip anxiety.  So over-planned and over-packed.  Was all my planning and packing in vain?  No.  But did it make the trip really all that much easier?  Heck no.  Here’s why: 1) Toddlers require even more stuff than babies.  A few days before we left, I went one of our local 100 Yen stores (like a dollar store, but way, way better) and bought a bunch of crappy toys that were sure to entertain Elisabeth.  My personal favorite?  A small, cylindrical tin I filled with brightly colored, plastic clothespins.  I envisioned Elisabeth completely engrossed by this tin, endlessly opening and closing the top, removing and replacing the clothespins.  I had never conceived so brilliant a plan!  And for so cheap!  Quite pleased with myself, I packed all of Elisabeth’s entertainment (also including a sticker book, some paper and crayons, a knock-off Etch-a-Sketch, and a couple of books) into one carry-on. I figured the key to a stress-free flight was compartmentalization.  So after dedicating that one carry-on to Elisabeth’s in-flight entertainment, I reserved her diaper back for her snacks (And, well, diapers.)  Did I mention Elisabeth likes to eat?  Because not only did I have...

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Cheesus Loves Me

Posted on Jun 30, 2013 in The Kids Are Actually Cute

Cheesus Loves Me 3

Elisabeth loves cheese.  I mean, LOVES cheese.  Breakfast, lunch, dinner or snack time, she looks up at me expectantly and asks, “Cheese? Cheese?” She also loves music.  Girl can get her groove on.  Like many families, we end Elisabeth’s day with a bedtime book and song before putting her to bed. I recently began incorporating “Jesus Loves Me” into her bedtime routine.  After several evenings of singing this classic Sunday School song to her, Elisabeth began asking for it by name.  Sitting in the rocking chair, head nestled into my shoulder, she’d pop out her pacifier just long enough to ask, “Cheese?” The first time she said it, I melted.  That “J” sound must be a hard one to nail.  But she was trying.  And pronouncing “Jesus” cheese is pretty darn cute. After repeatedly asking me for the “Cheese” song, I got to wondering.  Did she actually think I was singing about cheese?  That Cheesus loves her?  Given how much she loves cheese, it’s not a far leap for her to believe that cheese loves her back.  Think about it: “Cheesus loves me this I know/For the Bible tells me so/Little ones to [cheese] belong/They are weak but [cheese] is strong/ Yes Cheesus loves me/Yes Cheesus loves me/Yes Cheesus loves me/The Bible tells me so.” She’s going to be one confused little girl come Sunday School time… Share...

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