Last night we were nestled all snug in our beds, with visions of sugarplums and all that, then I awoke from my slumber to see what was the matter with the baby. Instead of her usual “it’s 5am, so feed me already” snuffling, this was a 4am whimper with a side of grunt. As I examined her, the cause of her discomfort became apparent…she vomited everywhere. I mean real, Exorcist-esque upchuck. Not at all to be confused with the benign, lackluster “spit up” we know and love.
DJ, roused from his long winter’s nap, helpfully offered that it might just be me overreacting to some spit up…just as she repeated the performance. “OH Holy shit!” he exclaimed. And it was the end of my good night.
Spewkie and I spent the next few hours rocking in the recliner, alternating between changing clothes after eruptions, her catnapping in my lap with a towel as a blanket, and me nodding off now and then despite the smell of it all. She was scheduled for a “well baby” appointment today at 9:30. That quickly turned into a “not at all well baby” appointment at 8:30.
Her pediatrician, Guy Smiley*, checked her out and declared that it was likely a stomach bug that would work itself out. She hadn’t yarfed in an hour or so at that point, so we were hopeful that the worst was behind us, but as Dr. Smiley was leaving the exam room, he turned back to us and said, “Oh yeah, the next stage of a bug in babies is rather extreme diarrhea. Just so you know. Merry Christmas!” And then he left, leaving behind two sleep-deprived zombie parents and an infant who was doomed to go from forcefully expelling fluids from one end to the other staring at the closed door.
Well, I love my gdiapers, but I’m not prepared to handle an onslaught like the one promised on my own, so we stopped by the local Wally World on the way home and grabbed a medium-sized bag o’ Huggies and some wipes. It’s like buying milk and eggs when they are forecasting a snowstorm, even if you’re vegan. It’s just the thing to do.
So the rest of the day, which had been devoted to Christmas shopping, baking, and decorating, instead became devoted to rocking, soothing, and changing the baby. I think the most my heart has ever broken was today, when after a particularly violent Technicolor yawn, she looked up at me with red-ringed, watery eyes, and managed to smile despite it all. My poor little baby.
We have pretty much held her all day, because she seems to need what small comfort snuggling can give her. And we need to give it.
*His name is not really Guy Smiley. It's Dr. Guy Smiley.
In other news:
- The High Country is pretty much the Christmas tree capital of the world, perhaps even the universe. The developers who want to put in multi-bazillion dollar homes have to fight for mountainsides with the tree farmers who have carefully tended their choose-n-cuts for years and years. So it is quite ironic that we went to get a tree yesterday (we’ve been too busy to do so before this week. Damn football team, always a winnin’) and all the places were closed. Fin. Dunzo. Chained up for the season.
Apparently we are the only slackasses in the state who have waited this long to deck our halls. We finally got into a lot tonight to get a tree.
Ps- Do you know how depressing it is to call the people you were inviting over to help trim the tree and cancel due to “complete lack of tree”? Sad.
- XM has a channel devoted to novelty Christmas music. I love it very much. I think I OD-ed a little bit on their “Classic Christmas” station that features endless chorals doing endless hoity-toity holiday music.
- A very good friend of mine is doing the Hemingway Christmas – 2 weeks in Key West with her family. I’m only the slightest bit green with jealousy. But hey- green is a Christmas color! Look how friggin jolly I am!