It is 10 o’clock in the
morning, and it’s… Wednesday, I think. The past week and a half has just gone
by – disappeared.
The Kant scholar left
for a well needed conference, the International Kant Congress in Vienna, last Sunday
morning, and almost immediately, thing started happening.
I thought I had invested
well in an active day so that the evening would go smoothly. We had a long swim
in the sea, a good late lunch, and then the boys went to the movies (Scorch
trials, something: a law movie, I thought at first, how educating! But I think
I would have been disappointed in that regard…).
That very evening though,
the boys were rough-housing before bed (not unusual) and I had just settled
down with a glass of Rioja, thinking I might actually be able to manage an
entire week with four active boys, when the 12 year old came crying, hand held
high. The 13 year old had kicked his hand and hit his right index finger in
such a way that it was most possibly broken. Oh, Lord. It was almost 11 pm,
already late for the boys to be up, and worse, the toddler was still awake,
barely. But there it was. I grabbed the phone and called my friend and neighbor
on the off-chance that she was still up, to see if she could be “on call,” in
case the 13 year old needed an adult while I was in the ER with the 12 year
old. Luckily, she was on her way home from a dinner, and as we started walking
up the hill to the ER, she drove into the parking lot. In fact, she ended up
taking some reading to our apartment, and spent most of the time we were away
right there in the living room.
In the ER, the 12 year
old’s finger was X-rayed and confirmed broken, however it did not require
surgery or resetting, luckily, but just a splint. We were home by 1:30 am. The
toddler and 6 year old had fallen asleep while the 13 year old read to them,
fairly quickly, but the 13 year old was still awake, worried.
Most of Monday was lost,
as everyone was really tired, and the 12 year old was in a lot of pain.
Tuesday, Wednesday we were playing catch up. The 12 year old was having trouble
getting his schoolwork done with his dominant hand out for the count.
By Wednesday evening,
both the toddler and the 6 year old came down with bad colds, and Thursday was
spent trying to get through that, while finishing some work. In the evening, the toddler started throwing
up, and Friday and Saturday were lost to buckets, laundry, bleach, rocking and
nursing. In the evening, thankfully, as the toddler was feeling much better, my
husband came home – exhausted after an intense Kant week, but well.
But wait, this wasn’t
the end of our miserable week.
On Sunday morning I went
out for a walk around town, all by myself, alone – sweet, lovely solitude! I
had some lunch, and a bit of retail therapy. I say “a bit,” because since we
are always nearly broke; there’s no room to splurge. I bought some eye shadow
for $3 on sale at H&M, and some pajamas for the little ones at the surplus
store. This may not sound very exciting, but after a couple of hours, it was
enough for me to have regained some sanity, and I headed home.
At home, I was greeted
by a vomiting 12 year old. As I made dinner that evening, I started feeling
sick, as did the 6 year old, and soon, the two of us were decked out in the
bathroom, throwing up. A rough night ensued. I would run to the bathroom, get
sick (sickness was pouring out from all ends at this point) and then crawl back
into bed, and the toddler would want me to nurse him back to sleep. Rinse, and
repeat.
 |
| The toddler, now perfectly healthy, dining alone, after having made everyone else sick |
By morning I felt
better, but physically drained. It took most of Monday and a very long nap for
me to get back on my feet. The house was a wreck though, and I had to somehow
restore the order. The 12 year old was still sick, but was not serial vomiting.
The 6 year old however, just kept throwing up. As soon as he put anything in
his tummy, even just a few teaspoons of water, it would come right back up. By
evening, we were getting worried. If he kept throwing up overnight, we would
have to take him to the hospital in the morning.
This is when my husband
started vomiting and other unpleasant things that come with a stomach bug. Could
this get any worse?
Late at night, after
everyone had emptied their stomach contents in more ways than you want to know,
and had settled down for a night full of bathroom visits, I broke out the
Clorox and went crazy: I declared war on bacteria!
In my experience, kids usually
start getting better a few hours after you decide to take them to the hospital.
Sounds silly? It turned out to be true in this case as well. The 6 year old slept
all night, and in the morning, he started retaining some water. By lunch, he
was able to keep some yogurt down, and in the evening, he even had some dinner.
This morning, he looks much better.
Is it over yet?
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