I was off work today. I told daycare not to expect Robbie and looked forward to a relaxing mommy-son day.
Robbie woke up at 5:30 a.m. As he normally doesn't get up for the day until at least 8:30, that was kinda early. I drug him back to bed with me assuming he'd go back to sleep. A little after 6, I hear him whisper "toons.. cah-toons..."
I grumble something incoherent to which he replies loudly "CAH-TOONS."
I tell him it's too early and to go back to sleep.
He doesn't bother with words again, he just dives over me to grasp for the remote control on the nightstand. He can't operate it yet, but he knows it holds the magic. I'm too tired to argue, I turn on the Disney Channel and rub my eyes.
David's alarm goes off and he seems confused why we're awake.
A short time later, my stomach feels a little odd. Maybe I'm just hungry. Robbie and I sit in bed and eat cereal.
About fifteen minutes later, I realize that was not hunger I had been feeling, but nausea. I take some deep breaths. Do not hurl.
Robbie hops down and grabs some books. We read 112 of them and then he started to seem sleepy. I wasn't sure if a nap this late in the morning was a good idea or not, but since I really wasn't feeling well, I figured we'd go for it. We snuggle up and I doze. I wake up to him climbing out from around me and slides out of bed. I rub my eyes again and figure that was our last hope. Time to get up.
Two minutes later, I hear him run back in the room carrying something rattly. "Cwackuhs!" (Crackers) he says.
I sit up and reach to get him some crackers and realize his pants and diaper at at his ankles. He's soaked in pee. We're working on potty training but he's not getting all of the components quite yet. I guess he decided pants down meant it was okay to pee. Or maybe he just decided to strip and the pee came on its own. I don't know. Either way, he got stripped and washed up.
As I'm cleaning him up, I realize the urge to hurl has not eased. Could I have eaten something bad? A stomach bug? I don't know. But it's not good.I wanted to take Robbie out to play in the snow and I don't have time to be ill.
I decide to run a hot bath. Maybe I'll feel better then.
I fill the jetted tub and turn it on, planning to get Robbie settled with some toys and return. Before that can happen, Robbie manages to dump an entire package of Goldfish crackers in our bed. Both it and he are essentially breaded in Goldfish crumbs. Guess I'll be washing the comforter today.
I take Robbie to his room for another fresh set of clothing. Before I can finish that task, I hear the tub making an odd noise. Hmm.. better go check that out.
I leave Robbie's room and I can hear water dripping in the basement. That can't be good.
Get to the bathroom and the jets are spraying water EVERYWHERE. I don't quite understand what happened, but the bathroom is a lake. I turn everything off, drain the tub, throw 14 towels into the floor and then head towards the basement to survey the rest of the damage.
The basement is a mess. About a third of it is wet, including water under a stack of boxes. I start pulling out the important stuff, and throw down a dozen more towels. I stop a few times to run upstairs and make sure that Robbie isn't eating paint or building a bomb while I'm distracted and to consider if I'd just feel better if I'd puke.
One of the cats wanders downstairs, yowls in displeasure and runs back upstairs.
By this time it's nearly lunch. I do the best I can with the basement and head upstairs to tend Robbie. I put some chicken nuggets and fries in the toaster oven and sit down on the couch to call my husband and tell him what a crappy day we're having.
As soon as I get him on the phone I look over to see my previously displeased cat poised to pee on the just-washed-and-sat-out-to-dry cover to Robbie's high chair. I throw a book at him, but not quite quickly enough. I consider crying, but that seems counter-productive. I can't even cuss because Robbie's in echo mode and anything I say, he'll say, too. I sigh and retrieve a load of wet towels from the bathroom and start the washing machine. At least I didn't puke while I gathered them.
Lunch is ready. I watch Robbie throw fries and chicken to the cats. At least someone is happy.
I put Robbie down for a nap. He fortunately fell instantly to sleep, allowing me to finish the clean up in the basement and bathroom. I try to lay down but my mind won't shut off. I decide maybe some toast would settle some stomach, so I make some. It takes about 5 minutes to realize that was a bad idea. No nausea, just pain. Screw you, germs.
Robbie wakes up as I'm finishing washing the dishes, so we play a little while. I attempt to bundle us both up snugly to go play in the snow. Robbie objects to a second pair of socks, so I just go with it. He was NOT a fan of the snow. It was amusing until about the time the snow his his ankles, I think. He should have listened to me about the socks. I should have insisted anyway. Though I might have had to sit on him to make it happen.
He starts to cry, "NO SNOW!" I put him back on the porch and make a big show of making a snow angel. See, snow is fun! Even when you feel barfy, yay snow!
Robbie makes a show of giving it a second shot but is clearly unimpressed. He looks visibly relieved when I ask if he wants to go back in. He makes a bee-line for the door. "Ih-side!" (inside) he says with relief.
I get us in and change him into warm, dry clothes. I try to remember how many outfits he's been in today. I don't have time for kid laundry, I'm still washing towels.
It's only mid-afternoon and I'm exhausted. I attempt to distract Robbie with a movie. He much prefers to read books. I curse myself for being an attentive mother. If only I'd taught him how to veg in front of the TV all day. Heh. All I want to do is lay down.
I take my temperature and don't believe it when it says it's normal. I feel like crap, I need some statistics to prove it.
I think about what a terrible day this has been. I used a vacation day for this? Robbie would have been better at daycare where he could have some attention and working at a desk job would have been infinitely easier than the series of catastrophes this day has heaped upon me.
Robbie comes running in with yet another book. "Mo' book," he says. Okay doll, more book. I pull him into my nap and try to arrange him so he's not pushing on my angry stomach.
He snuggles against me and I smile.
I kiss his cheek and wrinkles his nose happily.
I ask "kiss?" and he presents his cheek again.
I nom it playfully and he giggles. He presents his cheek yet again.
"Kiss?" nom-nom-nom. More giggles.
We do this several times and then I wrap him in a tight hug, "I love you, sweet face."
I sigh with contentment. Man, this is the best day ever.