Cabin Fever

Ah, winter. What’s not to love? Snowy days, hot cocoa, cozy nights in front of the fireplace, debilitating stomach viruses, cleaning bodily fluids off everything you own, not leaving the house for days on end...

Yep, that was our weekend. I was feeling pretty smug about avoiding the stomach bug that’s been going around lately. But apparently we just missed the first wave. In the middle of the night on Friday, Miles woke up crying. C. went in to check on him and found him lying in a puddle of his own filth. C. captured it best when he said, “It smells like a dirty pet store in his room.” He cleaned up as best he could and put Miles back to bed. The man’s a saint, I tell you.

The next day Miles wouldn’t touch his food, but otherwise seemed OK. Then Sat. night rolled around and C. was the next to get hit. Hard. Miserable night #2. Sunday morning I headed out to stock up on Pepto, Immodium, Gatorade, and ginger ale to nurse the boys back to health. Came home, was reading Miles a book, and suddenly he turned into Linda Blair from “The Exorcist.” Thankfully, I was able to rush him into the bathroom for the worst of it. He didn’t even seem upset, just surprised. Believe it or not, he’s never thrown up in his 2 ½ years of life. “What’s that, Mommy?” he asked, fascinated at the contents of his stomach. Gross. That’s what.

So about this time I started feeling not-so-good myself. But who wouldn’t, under the circumstances? Even so, I hoped it would pass. But no, I was struck next. And people, if there’s anything worse than puking your guts out, it’s doing so -- repeatedly -- when you’re 8 mos. pregnant. I can honestly say it was worse than labor.

In fact, I feared I was going to go into labor. And as you know from my last post, I’m soooo not ready for that yet. I called my doctor, who said the biggest risk was dehydration, which could cause contractions. If that happened, I was to go to the hospital and get an IV, he said. Super. Needles and hospitals are right up there with cleaning up vomit on my list of least-favorite things.

Fortunately, we all turned a corner by Mon. morning. Weak and bleary, not quite trusting our legs, we arose out of our beds and stumbled downstairs. Tentatively, we sipped Gatorade and nibbled Saltines. So far, so good.

Later, since we were all going blind from watching too much TV and getting on each other’s last nerve, we ventured out to Babies R Us and PetSmart. We were still weak and irritable, but we passed a happy half-hour or so looking at the hamsters and goldfish. Then it was back home for chicken soup and a nap. It was the longest weekend in history.

Then this morning, Dad was back to work, Miles was back to school, and life was back to normal … except it’s a snow day. C. made no attempt to conceal his glee at escaping the house at last. The lucky bastard. I am about ready to stick my head in the oven. Spring can’t come soon enough.

LINK O’ THE WEEK: Thank goodness for Jessica Simpson, who lightened my spirits by wearing these unflattering “Mom jeans” over the weekend. Poor girl.

NEWS O’ THE WEEK: My essay, “Belly Flop,” appears in the Feb. 2009 issue of American Baby (available free at Babies R Us). Check it out!