Friday the 13th,
muahahahaha! Ah, this is a day that –
ten years ago – probably would have brought on some late night celebration of
murder themed drinks and a Jason movie marathon. But we’re adults now; and not only are we
adults, we’re parents, so let’s keep
it together here, people. If I make it
through two glasses of wine and the season premiere of Boardwalk Empire (which
has been sitting in our DVR since S-U-N-D-A-Y…) we’ll call that a wild night at
the Coke House.
Those of you who have/had
children in daycare (or “school” as we call it around here) from the age of
diapers probably know all about the “Infant Daily Sheet.” These are the little sheets that our teachers
use to keep track of what goes on in the kiddo’s day. What time he ate, napped, etc. It’s all on the sheet. For someone who is super OCD and tends to
worry more than necessary, the IDS is totally awesome.
These sheets also have a place
for “fun activities”, which is where Miles’ teacher will usually jot things
like:
-
Tummy time!
Smiley face!
-
Buggy ride around the courtyard! Double smiley face!
-
Pulled off our left sock and tried to eat it! Superextrabigsmileyface!
-
Parker licked Miles on the face. Not so smiley face.
I love the “fun activities”
section, because it puts my mind at ease knowing that Miles is practically
having a sunshine-unicorn-magical-cereal marshmallow party at school every
day. Seeing how happy he is when I pick
him up (I mean, happy to see me of course, but to see that he’s happy at school
as well) makes my heart feel good. Working
parents, you know it’s tough sometimes.
The IDS also records the time and
type of each diaper change. “W” for wet,
and “BM” for, well, you know. Now we’re
going to talk about poop. Do you know
what a diaper “blow out” is? Yeah, me either. Then one day, after I picked up Miles we were
settled in the truck, I checked out his IDS.
I noticed that one of his diaper changes said “BM!!!!!” And I wasn’t quite sure what the five
exclamation points meant. We got
home, and I started unpacking his diaper bag, when I noticed a plastic Target
bag tied up in there. Still
clueless. I open said bag and holy shit
(literally). I learned what the
exclamation points were for.
Miles has only had this happen
three times, and never at home. The last
time it occurred, which was earlier this week, there were only two exclamation points. And guess what? Less poop overflow. This means that I can judge the BM explosion
by number of exclamation points. Seems rational.
Also this week, I came down with
a wicked 24 hour stomach bug. Do you
know what it’s like to try and vomit quietly? Let me clarify…to try and projectile vomit quietly? It was Wednesday, and I was feeling
icky. Around 8pm, I told Evan I really
thought I was going to hurl, and that I should probably go lie down (this means
go to bed; it’s the same as when I tell Evan that I’m “resting my eyes”) Miles
was already asleep for the night, so I felt okay hitting the hay a little
early.
11:00pm. I wake up, all of a sudden, with that
feeling. You know the one. I lie there for a minute, waiting for it to
pass. It does not. I make it to the bathroom, and it
begins. TMI: I was vomiting with so much
force that it was actually splashing back up into my face and hair. More
puking ensues. Evan comes into the bathroom
to check on me. Through flailing, I
manage to communicate, “please don’t watch me hurl, even though we’ve been
together over ten years, I’m not ready for you to see the romantic mystery that
is the worst stomach flu, ever.”
The only thing worse than
relentless hurling is trying to relentlessly hurl quietly. No way was I taking
the chance of waking Miles up with the horrific laser light show that was my
toilet at that moment.
Miles, naturally, slept through
this entire spectacle. And every
spectacle that followed. Every hour, on
the hour.
UNTIL 8AM.
I. Die.
Evan took Miles to school the
next morning, and I got to spend the entire day in bed, which isn’t nearly as
awesome as it sounds. Thankfully, by
Thursday, I was feeling much better.
When I dropped Miles off at school, his teacher told me that two other
daycare moms have had the same stomach bug this week – but none of the kids. Sacrifices,
people…that’s what parenthood is about.
And finally, these have been
floating around our office for the past week:
No one will claim them. I mean, we’re a strange group in our office,
but I didn’t think we were latex exam
gloves strange…
Happy Saturday,
Kristin
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