I feel like the world’s worst mother. Last night I got home from a long day in court. Daughter was her usual bubbly self. Husband fixed her favorite meal last night - hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. (We served corn too, but she doesn’t eat anything but the required "no thank you" bite of that). Oddly she ate only one helping of mac&cheese and one bite of her hot dog. Then said she was done. We all went and played and then Husband left, supposedly, for Bible study and then to go to play church basketball.
Daughter and I played some more, then had a popsicle for snack, and then snuggled and read a bit. I put her in bed and tucked her in. She wanted to read so I told her she could for a little while. She started saying her tummy hurt and she needed to sleep on the couch or in my bed. I figured it was her usual ploy - she says this a lot. She got up once to go to the bathroom and back in bed. Kept calling out that her tummy hurt. I told her to go to sleep and it would feel better in the morning. She wanted med-sin-sin (medicine) and I told her we’d see in the morning. Then she said she had to go to the bathroom again. Still saying her belly hurt but I told her maybe she just needed to go potty and would feel better now. She laid back down. Then I hear crying and her saying "Mommy my belly really hurts." I knew immediately she was not kidding. I ran in, and she promptly got sick. We haven’t bought a princess trashcan (or any trashcan) for her room. All over the hardwood floor, and me. She got very upset. She’s always gotten very upset at making messes. I reassured her. Moved her to another spot and began to strip her clothes. She started getting sick some more and I ran for a trash can. By this time, my morning sickness nausea was kicking into high gear. So I grabbed her and the trashcan and ran for the bathroom. Where she got sick and I got sick. I felt horrible. She’s across the bathroom using the trashcan and I’m hovered over the toilet. She’s crying. I’m crying because I can’t go comfort her. She’s crying because I’m upset. It was horrible.
I grabbed my cell and called Husband and told him to get home. I then put us both in a bath and cleaned us up. Carried her to the living room. She got sick again. I grabbed a towel and two trashcans. I went to get her pajamas from her room and briefly debated cleaning up her room. One step in her room and I changed my mind.
Thereafter she and I huddled on the couch with two trashcans. We just took turns. I still felt like a horrible mom but at least I was holding her on my lap. Every minute I’d call Husband’s cell. He was not answering. I texted him. No response. This was twenty minutes before his Bible study lecture (class first then lecture) was to end. I thought maybe he had gotten out early and went on to basketball so I called the pastor’s cell since he usually plays on Mondays. No answer. I called the wife of a guy that plays to see if she could call his cell. He wasn’t playing but they offered to run over to church and get Husband. I told them I was sure he was en route and just to wait a few moments. Forty minutes and 50 phone calls later - he calls back.
He walks in and gets us new trashcans and starts cleaning. An hour later he is still at it. Cleaned the rug, the bathroom, the floor, the sheets, all the clothes, a bunch of towels. And switched trashcans several times for us. He got it done without complaining. Although I do wish he had come to take over for me holding Daughter - well I probably wouldn’t have let go of her really. Turns out he was working off some guilt — he had skipped the lecture part of Bible study to go play basketball earlier.
Husband wanted to take us both to the ER. He was sure all that getting sick was not good for the pregnancy. I assured him it was fine. He’s worried I’ll catch whatever Daughter has. Hey, who’d know really? It’s not all that different from morning sickness?
Daughter slept on the big recliner chair which we pushed over next to the couch. Husband slept on the couch. I wanted too but he said for me to go to bed. So I went into bed but still heard every time she was up. We finally all fell asleep about 3 am. She is drinking gingerale now and doing better. I am at work because I have this stupid trial to finish. I am going to go home at lunch though.
I HATE this. I hate working when I should be home with her. I hate not being able to comfort her. I HATE that my needs are makign me stop and not go to her. But........I do love that I have this hate. I know my mother didn't have it. How could she? I don't remember her comforting me when I was sick. Or sleeping on the couch with me. Or letting me in her room. So while the short-term, here and now, part of this sucks, I am smiling that the Mommy gene is alive and well in me.