Oh the woe that is the stomach bug in a child who cannot yet tell you that he hurts, that his tummy feels wierd, that "oh my God, I'm going to puke!" Last night after Connor had been asleep for about an hour we heard some grunts and whines and we thought - OH NO, it's the teeth. Oh how I wish it had been teeth. Teeth would have been beautiful.

Instead Steve found Connor's face slimy and wet and covered in puke and I walked upstairs just in time to watch Connor gork all over Steve. "Help me." I was frozen, jaw on ground because where do you even begin when two people, a carpet, bedding is covered in vomit? We stripped him, got him clean, got him comfortable, put him into new pjs and he proceeded to puke again with just as much gusto. He fell asleep on my chest resting on a towel, another wrapped around him. He puked again. and again. and again. and he had nothing left to puke but he kept gettting woken and we kept putting a bowl under his chin and whispering calming things to him. My poor baby.

He eventually fell asleep with us and there he slept through until 4am when he suddenly woke up and made a mad dash for my bedside table. His cup. His water. It was against my better judgement, but that boy drank the entire cup of water, layed back down beside me, stared up at the ceiling and fell back asleep until almost 7. He had an entire bottle for breakfast and we sent him to school - he was feeling better, he looked better, he must be feeling better.

Except he wasn't. He refused his other bottles all day. He was uninterested in food except for cheerios. He had part of a bottle with our dinner. He played happily before bed. He loved his tub. I diluted a bottle for him at bedtime. Three ounces in I was wearing eveything he had in his stomach and he was running around the family room, lifting a gallon of poland spring up like hercules. He eventually tired out and went down, but we're calling it a day on school for Connor this week and watching the ticking time bomb of doom that is the stomach bug in hopes that no one else in this house starts to feel icky. The last thing I want to do is spend the weekend with two sick kids, or a sick husband, or staring down the barrel of my toilet bowl myself.
We're concerned about dehydration, kid hasn't drank anything but water. That sippy cup is going to hold some watered down pedialyte tonight.

Connor has a play date with Kiki for Friday to kick off a long weekend away from school.


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