Until Thursday: The Week in Review

Sunday--miss birthday party to doula Friend L's VBA2C of a 9lb baby

Monday--prepare for my parents' garage sale

Tuesday--my birthday--greet internet Friend C from out of town, just after discovering that a kid at my brother's school has whooping cough--guess who helped watch my kids while I was with my laboring Friend L? Panic, before talking to parents and seeing official notification email from school, then call doctor and make sure antibiotics are called in just in case. Friend C's youngest (3 weeks older than Rooster) starts throwing up.

Wednesday--Friend C's youngest finally stops throwing up, but our collective older children (3.5, 2.3, and 2) attempt to tear each other limb from limb and include my house in the destruction. Talk to nurses at doctor's office again and get reassured that two breastfed children of my boys' ages and size are unlikely to get whooping cough anyway from this type of exposure, regardless of vax status, much less a severe case. Feel slightly better. Friend C's eldest child starts acting crabby and breaks out in what appear to be Chickie Pops.

Thursday--Definitely Chickie Pops. Get call from Friend M's husband saying Friend M is being rushed to hospital for "urgent c-section," as the baby has decided to get her cord wrapped around her neck while in the breech position, and yes, they're aware chicken pox are a possibility here, but even so I'm on the top of the call list should Aunt not do so well with Friend M's son. Friend C decides to take sick little monkeys and head home, but not before deciding to rent townhouse across the street, which is A-OK by me. :) It wasn't a dream, we really do get along well together. Brandon gets home and all is well until halfway through cooking dinner, when Eeny pukes his guts up for the First Time Ever, but certainly not the last. His current count is three.

Note: Vomited refried beans are nasty.

Call doctor and speak with on-call since mine's out of town, and explain that Eeny is not vaxed for whooping cough, which is why I wanted the antibiotics in the first place. Blow right past doc's perplexed sounding, "Let me get this straight, he hasn't had ANY DTaP?" and inform him that I think stopping antibiotics (he's only had three doses) until the stomach bug is gone and then restarting them, especially if it's only 24 hours, is the best course of action, and in turn, blithely ignore doc's incredulity at hearing that a 2 year old is still receiving breastmilk. DH, lovely and worthy man that he is, volunteers to sit with Sick Toddler all night, reaffirming my choice to have marry him in the first place. I call my mom, to tell her that no way in heck am I coming over tomorrow to help with the garage sale unless she comes up with a miracle cure for the Puking Boy Wonder. She tells me she understands and that she's hit a deer and is waiting for a tow truck, so would I mind calling back later? Toddler pees in the potty before getting spectacularly sick again, prompting me to offer to eventually buy him Thomas and Friends underpants.

All of this is a wee bit overwhelming. That said, in order to arrange my thoughts, I've come to the following conclusion:

If vomiting weren't so upsetting to my poor child, I'd prefer he did that instead of ever getting a runny nose.

Throwing up is dramatic, done all at once, and gets the ickiness out so it can be taken care of in one fell swoop.

Nose-running is long, annoying, gooey, and revolting, requiring me to follow a recalcitrant toddler around all day with a Kleenex, demanding that he stop long enough for me to wipe that disgusting slug track off.

I think I shall fall over.