It’s Not All Mary Poppins

Let’s all sychronize our watches…

Grace’s explosive ick rocketing through the daycare. Poor Grace spent last night puking at 15-minute intervals. Daniel has been stricken with a much milder version — a couple of episodes in four hours, then no more. Jazz revisited her lunch rather spectacularly today… though, happily, not ON me.

Given all that, I gave Rory’s folks a call last night to warn them. Now that the first month of mom’s mat. leave is done, Rory is now coming only part-time. He hadn’t been here since Wednesday, and I wanted to give them a heads-up. If he stayed home on Friday, maybe he could avoid this thing, and, more to the point, try to avoid bringing it home to a month-old baby.

I just got the call: even though they opted to keep him home today, he just started with the up-chucking.

Ugh.

That just leaves Poppy.

And… perhaps me?

We estimate the incubation period is in the order of 48 hours.

Tick, tick, tick…

October 14, 2011 Posted by | eeewww, health and safety | , , , , , | 5 Comments

Ugh. And happy Easter to you, too

Grace’s mother is congested. It’s not a little snuffle, it’s my-head-is-exploding-with-the-pressure grossness. Her voice is raspy, she looks like death. (Well, as much like death as a pretty early-thirty-something can ever look.)

Jazz’s dad has no voice. His mouth opens to emit a raspy whisper which clearly causes him pain.

Jazz’s mother, Grace’s father, and Rory’s mother all have sinus pain and ear infections. Last week, Rory’s poor mother also had the stomach flu. Copious vomitting, and nothing to do with her now second-trimester pregnancy.

Every single child in the daycare has some variant of a cold. They all have runny noses. Jazz and Rory cough constantly. Constantly, and directly into my face 47 times a day. Ick. Grace seems to have a sore throat, though she is so quiet it’s hard to know for sure. Tyler and Emily were both home for a few days with fevers; now that all they have are runny noses, they’re back.

Grace’s mom coughs, blows her nose (again) and looks at me. “Look at us. It’s gross! And look at you! You’re fine. You’re in the middle of this all day long, and you’re fine.”

“Well, when you’ve been surrounded by toddlers for as long as I have, you get exposed to pretty much everything out there. I have a cast-iron immune system by now.” I said that. I really did. I should know better. I studied English. I know about hubris. It’s worse than tempting fate. Essentially I was putting a giant KICK ME sign on my butt and daring fate to go for it.

That was Thursday afternoon.

Thursday evening, my throat was a bit raspy. Friday morning, I woke up to a very sore throat, a voice that only came out cracked and croaking, and a full octave lower than normal, and a cough. And oh, the pain when I coughed. Thankfully, Friday was a day off.

Saturday it no longer hurt to cough. Thank goodness, since I was coughing approximately 72 times an hour. I still had no voice.

Sunday I was feeling better! Still with the cough and raspy voice, but more energy. (Good thing, since I was hosting an Easter brunch for ten. And it went very well. And then I had a nap. And went to bed at 8 pm.)

This morning I crawled out of bed at 4 am so as to spend the next hour on the couch blowing my nose every minute and a half. Since I was going to be awake anyway, why make my poor husband suffer through the noisy evacuation of 12 pounds of snot? (You’re welcome.)

This morning I had sinus congestion so bad my teeth ached. My doctor managed to squeeze me in at noon. I have a sinus infection (on top of the cold) and a prescription which I will start in 24 hours if the symptoms don’t abate. Thank goodness I ALSO had today off.

I may be taking tomorrow off, too. My poor parents.

How was YOUR Easter?

April 25, 2011 Posted by | eeewww, health and safety | , | 4 Comments

Vomit 2, Bruising 0

pukesmileyEmily is wearing a straw-and-fabric-blossom lei around her neck.

“Come here, Timmy, and you can wear it, too!” She offers him the other end. He tips his head forward. She tips hers, too, and lifts the other end of the necklace. The sharing is laudable, but that loop just isn’t that long. I foresee disaster.

“Emily, Timmy. I don’t think that’s a very good idea. If you both wear it at the same time, you will bonk heads and fall down.”

They stare up at me. Expressions blank. Either they don’t get it, or…

“Maybe that’s what they want,” the Husband pipes up. (He’s working from home quite a bit these days. I’m not minding the continuing bus strike so much, I confess.) “Maybe that sounds like a good time to them.”

“Yeah!” Timmy has no idea what was just said, but he recognizes important words when he hears them. “It’s a good time!”

Woo.hoo.

And really, who knows? You’ll recall the topics of rivetting attention yesterday were vomit and death, with a side of poverty. Vomit was the focus of most of their attention, undivert-able. Vomitting in the night, vomitting in the toilet, vomitting in a bowl, on sheets, on the carpet, on DADDY! (Emily’s house apparently saw some GOOD TIMES over the Christmas break.) The colour of vomit, the smell of vomit. Your teeth hurt just before it comes up, did you know that?

And it really, really hurts when it comes out your nose. Especially when there are carrots in it.

(Yeah, well, I didn’t really need to think about that either, and what choice did I have?)

In fact, it wasn’t me so much as my husband who bore the brunt of it. He and his laptop, sitting at the dining table, diligently creating a comparison chart for a negotiation he’s conducting. (Yes, he really does WORK from home when he works from home.) And all around him, the chatter swirled. Vomit and death, death and vomit. And more vomit. (He says he gets much more work done at home than in the office. His powers of focus and concentration are really impressive.)

This morning, fresh start, fresh conversation. The children chatter about snow and breakfast and dryers and boots. Grandmas and grandpas, Cinderella and the colour pink and noodles with cheese. All sorts of cheerful, everyday stuff.

Until, that is, Husband enters the kitchen to prepare his morning capuccino. The hissing and humming draw the tots like moths to a flame. All other activities and conversations cease. They pull close and peer up, eyes round.

And the conversation starts. Two room away, sitting on the couch, I can hear Emily’s voice: “… bowl… baffroom…bowl… sheets…”, and I call down the length of the house.

“Is that child talking about vomit again?”

The husbands voice is rueful. “Yes.”

“You sure do bring that out in them, don’t you?”

We hit it together. “So to speak.”

So really: If vomit is so utterly fascinating, then maybe head-bonking is even better: Vomit is explosive and goopy and all, but big black-and-blue goose-eggs? The Epitomy of Cool.

They’re three and a half. Who knows?

January 8, 2009 Posted by | eeewww, Emily, health and safety, the things they say! | , , , , , , | 2 Comments