Fully Initiated

I've debated whether or not to post anything about our past week, especially since I'd rather forget the whole thing myself, but I've had a couple hints that the update would be appreciated. And I know there are some people out there who will get a good chuckle at my expense. But I warn you: those with weak stomachs or vivid imaginations should probably stop reading here. I'm serious. It wasn't pleasant. In fact, those of you who have yet to procreate, feel free to use this post as proof of your sanity when dealing with nosy in-laws or ward members. Plus, it's a long one. Ok...here goes:

Thursday night, Lillian kept waking up, which is pretty unusual for her. On the third time, I sent Erik in...for some reason, pulling the Daddy card will usually end the cycle when it does occasionally happen. He'd been out of bed a couple minutes when I hear, "Leonora, come help me. She threw up!" With Erik's weak stomach, I hurried out of bedding hoping to avoid cleaning up two messes. But when I got there and actually turned on the light in her room, nothing. I went to the bathroom, where they were sitting in the dark for some reason, and turned on the light. Nothing on her. It turned out her shirt was a little wet, but there was no smell and no sight of anything that might be something other than excessive drool. So I searched her bed a little more and found...one green bean. One. Uno. All alone. So we changed her shirt and put her back to bed.

She woke up again about half an hour later so I curled up with her on the Siesta Sak hoping it would help her sleep since she obviously wasn't feeling well. Nothing much happened after that. She acted like she was trying to throw up a couple times, but nothing came up, and she finally fell deep asleep and actually slept later than normal, even after I got up.

Once she woke up, she didn't really want anything to eat but was perfectly normal other than that. Except for the the horrendous diaper I had to change. She told me she was poopy and headed to her bedroom to get changed. Not thinking it was a critical thing, I decided to wrap up what I was doing before heading after her. Before I could finish, she came to tell me again and then ran back to her room. Once she turned around, I realized her legs were soaking. The best description I can give is this: Toast up a piece of bread. As soon as it comes out of the toaster, smear a fair amount of peanut butter on it and let it sit a little. That melted pool of peanut butter that normally looks so appetizing isn't so much when it's in a diaper. But we got it cleaned up and headed on with our day.

That night, we ordered pizza. Lillian still wasn't too interested in eating, but she wanted some milk. So while we watched a little tv and ate some delicious Pizza Hut, she sat on my lap and drank milk. (Can you see where this is going? I wish I had.) Then she burped. Then it ALL came out. All over her. All over the futon. All over me. Not so much all over Erik since I've never seen him move that fast, but I guess I can't blame him. I actually had to ask him to get me a towel so I didn't track it all over the house. I'll admit. I'm a pretty prissy girl (if you haven't noticed that, you're not very observant). I don't really care for getting messy. Just ask my mom. She thinks it's hilarious how I carry a dirty wash cloth. And here I was, covered in curdled milk. After Lillian was clean enough that Erik would actually touch her, he gave her a bath while I stripped (the futon and myself) and started some wash. Then she went to bed. Luckily, she completely missed the pizza.

I ended up spending another night sleeping with her next to a puke bucket she had to use twice, but about 2 am, she finally went to sleep and I went back to bed.

Don't you wish that was the end of the story? Me, too.

On Saturday, Erik and I headed down to the snowmobile show in Salt Lake. We left Lillian with Erik's parents in case she decided to be sick again, but even before we left, I could tell my stomach wasn't feeling all that great. Lillian was just fine all day, but I ended up throwing up on the way back from Salt Lake, in the car, on the freeway, into a Wal-mart bag...with a hole. Yep...a hole. We had to stop in Layton to get me a new pair of pants since I didn't think I needed a change of clothes for myself. When we left Roy, Trent sent us off with some gallon Ziploc bags, which I ended up using just before we started up Sardine. They work much better... Luckily, that was the end of my sickness. I felt achy for a couple more days, but that I can deal with.

On Sunday, we stayed home from church since no one was feeling great. Lillian went through every pair of pajamas she owned, and we did a ton of wash. We tried giving her pedialyte and pediasure since she wasn't eating anything, but she chugged them and they'd just come right back up.

She slept all day Monday, but there were no stomach pyrotechnics and we thought we were through the ordeal. She even ate a little and kept down the pedialyte. I decided to work from home on Tuesday just to give her one more day to recover. But 10 minutes after she woke up, she threw up again. This time, she was sitting in my bed. On my white comforter. There are several things in that scenario that make me ask myself what I was thinking.

But since that last episode, she's been fine. The rest of Tuesday, she ran around like her normal self. She still wasn't interested in eating, but otherwise seemed fine. We took shifts with her on Wednesday since I had some stuff for work I needed to be in the office to do. Erik took the morning and I had the rest of the day. She scarfed some spaghetti-o's and crackers and chips and was just fine.

After these last few days, I think I'm fully initiated as a mother. I've had more puke on me than anyone should ever have. But I should be able to handle anything now...right?