Mother Of The Year

Dear Vomit-Machine,

(Or should we call you Poop Bucket?)

So... guess who got a touch of the stomach flu this weekend? That was fun.

Actually, to be completely honest, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Considering that you and I left Daddy at home for the weekend so that we could drive up to the farm to see Grandma and Grandpa and I could go to my 15-year reunion before you and I drove back down to Provo to go to a reception... which made the weekend really, REALLY long.

And considering that you had projectile vomit Friday night at the farm.... (We can only thank our stars that we were outside on the grass, which made for an easy clean up!) But, being the Mother of the Year, I figured it was a one-time occurance and shouldn't be a problem for the rest of the trip. That night, when I woke to the smell of rancid diharrea and had to wrangle you while you were still asleep so that I could change one of the most toxic diapers I've ever seen, I figured that you'd probably got the last of the evil out of your system.

WRONG AGAIN.

And considering that during the trip, I ended up with a broken down car that left me having to borrow Grandpa and Grandma's car to make the trip to Provo... and considering that apparently my prego brain is working overtime right now and I managed to run out of gas.....

On the freeway.

In the rain.

Because I tried to make it from Preston to Provo on a 1/2 tank of gas.

Cuz your Mommy's a rock star that way.

I mean, really... WHO RUNS OUT OF GAS. More specifically, who hears a beeping noise, wonders what it is, then assumes that it must just be a malfunctioning seat belt alarm AND CONTINUES TO DRIVE?

Also, considering that once I was able to cross FOUR lanes of traffic with my hazards flashing as the tires slowed down their rotation and was able to make it to the last exit ramp for a few miles, I discovered that you had a nasty case of the trots... and you had leaked that all over your car seat.....

And, considering that any number of weirdos could have stopped to offer "help", we ended up being helped by a nice man and woman in University of Utah shirts who got me some gas. In the rain, mind you... and refused to take any money? Seriously. I swear it's gotta be your cute little face that did it. Me alone? I would have been hoofing it to get the gas for sure....

And, considering that you had a pretty tough night that night in the hotel room and threw up all over your bed and spent the night in bed with me... which meant that Mommy slept zip, zilch, nada... because you're such a squirmer when you sleep that I was worried if I didn't stay awake (or at least partly awake) you'd squirm right over the edge....

And, not that THAT would have really made a difference because the following day when you and I finally made it home and you had yet ANOTHER runny diaper and you somehow managed to stick your foot in the poop... I broke a cardinal rule and while I was putting the diaper in the bucket, didn't have my hand on you. And the next thing I know, I felt like something wasn't right in the atmosphere and turned just in time to see you land on the floor after rolling off the table.

And one of my nightmares just came true. AWESOME.

Yep... that's me, Mother of the Year.

Luckily, you weren't hurt. Just scared. Nothing a little snuggling couldn't fix. And, hey... if that snuggling turns into an hour nap for you and me? I'M NOT COMPLAINING.

When Daddy finally got home from his volunteer activities that day, I asked if he could watch you while I took a nap. A THREE. HOUR. NAP.

But, it turns out that I wasn't the only one who needed one because when I got up? Guess who ELSE had been asleep for three hours? Apparently, the weekend had taken a toll on you, too.

But it sure was fun. In fact, we took some pics to document the fun-age.

You got to help feed 17 geese. Seriously, 17 geese?
Grandma and Grandpa need a new hobby.

And you got to take your first ride with Grandpa on the four-wheeler.

You got to rock in Mommy's old rocking chair from when
she was your age... or maybe a bit older. Same size, though!

You got to hang out (and throw up) in Grandma and Grandpa's awesome yard.

You got to meet your cousin Grayson... who, I think might
have been a little taken aback by the tornado that is Hazel.

And you went to your first luau in your very own mumu, thanks to Aunt Carol.

Yep... it was quite the event filled weekend.

The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed and ready to figure out a way to withdraw my nomination for Mother of the Year. I got up before you, got showered, dressed and ate breakfast all before you woke up. Then, I got you changed and fed and we had a little snuggle time before it was time to go to school.

School. There's something about that word that I think makes you nauseous because when I asked you if you were ready for school? Up came EVERYTHING you'd eaten that morning and the night before. And it kept coming. And coming. And COMING. You even buried your face in my chest as it came, which meant that it was all over your face, in your eyes, in your ears.

I gotta tell you... I wasn't really sure how exactly to clean up the mess. You were covered. I was covered. The couch was covered. So, we took a trip to the shower and decided that today, you and I would be staying home.

I think, though... getting that last throw-up out of the way really made you feel better because you've been fine ever since. Sure, sure... right now, all you really want is the bottle and have declared a moratorium on anything resembling solid foods unless it's a banana, but I'm hopeful that once your tummy starts feeling better, that will change. The good news is that I think that the yogurt I've been sneaking into your bottle is helping with your tummy... something about the probiotics calming it down? At least, that's what the doc recommended. But, he also said that you're not the hugest baby he's ever seen... so it's possible he's crazy.

In other news, you go in for your ear tubes on Monday. I don't know whether to be excited or scared for you.

Excited because, YAY! No more ear infections we have to treat with antibiotics!

Scared because THEY'RE CUTTING A HOLE IN YOUR EAR DRUM!

I think this is our best option as the ENT said that you're hearing is a bit compromised now and that you're ripe for another ear infection given the fluid in your ears. I wonder if they'll let me be in the room with you when they put you under?

I'll let you know how it goes. Although, if you're actually reading this when you're older, you probably already know by now!

Love,
Mama