What a week! If I had to title this set of seven days, I’d probably name it something terrible like the “Pilgrimage of Puke” or the “Trail of Tears and Vomit” or “Pukefest 2009.” It’s unfortunate that a lot of good memories from this week are going to be overshadowed this way.
While the other memories will be filed away neatly in the regular standard manila folders, this week will always stand out in the giant file cabinet of my mind as the green one with slime oozing out of it and some kind of spooky jack-in-the box timer that sends out a fountain of projectile vomit whenever you least expect it.
I’m sure that as time passes and the sour stench of stomach acid slowly dissipates, my memories will re-order themselves and I’ll be able to recall the wonderful vacation that we took to see relatives and the beautiful wedding. It really was a nice time. I’m just sad it had to end on such a horrible awful note. Most importantly, I hope that Bug doesn’t associate our time up in Northern California with sickness. If she does, she’ll probably never want to take a road trip ever ever ever again. I know I’m thinking second thoughts. If I have to clean puke out of a car-seat buckle ever again (and I know I will), I think I’m going to fall over and die.
Being sick wasn’t all bad of course. There were the sweet moments when she’d wake up in the night and say, “Hold me, Mommy, ” and we’d both fall asleep with her sleeping on my chest just like she did when she was a baby. There was that one day when we were both so sick of the couch and the television and the soggy towels that we opened the door of the cabin and sat on the floor looking out with the cold air blowing on our faces. We watched the children play in the grass yard across the street and she asked me to carry her over there so she could play too but I knew she didn’t have the strength.
Then there are her eyes, so big and chocolate and solemn. Her sick eyes are beautiful but they make me cry inside. I can’t stand this new silence she has about her. While I love being able to complete a thought without interruption, I miss the chatter. I miss being asked a million times if she can have some chocolate or a puffed rice treat that tastes like a Cheeto but is not. I don’t like this new moodiness.
So anyway, we are home but the sickness is not over yet. She’s been getting better and better every day and I thought for sure we’d get through today without any up-chucking but then she got a little too thirsty and drank her vanilla milk drink a little too fast. As soon as I can, I’m going to make an appointment with her pediatrician. I have a feeling they are just going to say it’s some nasty virus going around and she’ll be fine but I’m the mom and I worry.
I’m just scared that her skinny little body isn’t going to fatten back up again. I’m scared that this new quiet Bug is here to stay. I miss my old Bug.