On Saturday Quinn was all lethargic, sleepy and kind of fussy. Turns out she was running a temp of 103.5. Gave Motrin and promptly began obsessing over my "game plan" for when Will would get sick.
Sunday, Neil leaves to go out of town till Wednesday. Quinn's fever continues, but she is playful, fun and happy. Even eating pretty good. I take Will's temp and mine about four times that day.
Sunday night, I get everyone in bed and asleep. About an hour after Will was in bed, he woke up and yelled for me then said, "Mommy, it's going to be a rough night." I shook my head and laughed thinking this guy is so silly.
About an hour later, around 8:30 p.m. I hear Will yell for me then start puking. He's puked everywhere. Every blanket, pillow, the rug, his clothes. I started gagging just walking into his room.
I got a bucket, called my mom, gave Will a bath and got him settled with a bucket on the couch. Then I started cleaning. If we were made of money I would have just tossed it all in the trash can it was so disgusting.
If Will has more than 2 pukes it's an automatic ER trip to make sure he doesn't get dehydrated. Dehydration is extremely toxic for Will and not a scenario we want to have happen.
My mom packed a bag and came to stay with Quinn in case I had to take Will to the ER. She arrived, we discussed a game plan and then we all went to bed. Will ended up doing a dry heave or something around 2:30 a.m. but I decided I wasn't loading him up at 2:30 a.m. for the ER and I would give him one more chance. I couldn't really tell what had happened.
Monday morning arrived and we got him started on hydration and a piece of toast. He kept everything down and was pretty perky. Quinn's fever continues and I make a dr. appt for her at noon.
Around 11 a.m. the power goes out. I start getting nauseated - not just from the power going out and ruining our supply of EPI-743 that is temperature sensitive, but for real "I'm going to puke now" nauseated.
My mom stayed home with Will, I took Quinn to the pedi. There's nothing obvious wrong with her, just some mystery fever. Snot and congestion has also appeared with her.
Monday afternoon, I start puking. I literally can't move and am on the couch till the evening when I puke again and then I am marginally improved, enough to give Quinn a bath, bottle and attempt to take care of Will. Of course I was totally wiped out and tired. Everyone was - both kids, my mom and me.
I even phoned a wayyy pregnant friend to bring over some groceries it was that bad. Who calls a pregnant woman for help??? This girl did in a serious bout of desperation. Thankfully she didn't get sick and made the most amazing food drop ever.
I was just so incredibly thankful my mom was here watching the kids while I slept on the couch and puked. She made Will some dinner and stayed till everyone was asleep.
Tuesday morning Quinn wakes up fever free. I take Will to school for a half day. Picked him up after lunch and he came home and took a two hour nap. Quinn thankfully remains fever free all day, but decides to be Miss Fussy Pants all afternoon.
Wednesday morning, everyone remains fever and puke free. I send both kids to school and thankfully everyone slept a good night.
All this while my husband is out of town. Talk about timing. I need to send God a message, I am not some sort of Super Woman. I am just a mom who has some awesome kids! Stop testing my powers.
I don't think I can even put into words how fearful I am that Quinn is going to get Will sick. It's not just a kid at school that he may or may not even be exposed to. I mean she is in our house licking, touching, chewing, slobbering on everything she can find. These are the moments when I wish I was back on an antidepressant. Not because I'm about to jump off a bridge (okay, maybe that would have been more pleasant than the past few days) but mostly because it helped take the edge off of my anxiety and constant worry.
Worry that is only beefed up in situations such as these.
It's also extremely unnerving to just be sitting at home with a feverish child. With Will, 103.5 would have been a scary scary hospital visit for multiple days. With Quinn, it's Motrin every 6 hours and push fluids. ???? Huh????
I don't know how to describe that feeling like you're doing something wrong, constantly second guessing my care choices for Quinn because of the care choices I have to make for Will. It's just weird. I woke up in a panic on Saturday night and starting making my mental check list of hospital stuff for Quinn. Then realized I didn't need to do that.
What a crazy few days.
And then, there's moments like these that happened before all the puking and even during Quinn's fever.
He is still loving the peace sign
Quinn think's it's hilarious if you bark like a dog to her.
Venturing into the grass