Sunday, September 11, 2011

It's not a vacation unless your baby takes ill.

We got to the beach and checked into the condo mid-afternoon yesterday.  Spent the next hour or so unpacking and then a forced march to the grocery store for Rob, Cam and I.  Her royal highness, my mom, sat on her ass complaining and second guessing everything and everyone.  Ended up ordering pizza, because by dinner time Cam was DONE with the day, and Rob and I were so stressed we couldn't bring ourselves to prepare any of the $400 worth of food the lady of the manor requested.

I set up Cam's room as best I can to simulate her night time experience at home.  Get her down easily, but at 0200 I hear her screaming as if being stabbed.  I throw open the door to find my pitiful baby sitting and rocking and screaming in her Pack n Play, not even acknowledging that I have come to get her.  When I pick her up my hand smooshes something that feels like a noodle. She had spaghetti for dinner.

Sure enough, poor kid thre up all over her bed, blankies, lovies, you name it.  It took five seconds for me to realize that I may be good with all manner of bodily functions...but vomit is not one of them.  Thankfully, our place has a washer and dryer, so I was doing laundry and trying to calm Cam down enough to get her re-clothed and settled into bed with Rob.  After an hour and a half, she finally relented and slept, well, like a baby...restless but fitfully.  Every time she moved, I was up and alert, hoping the next trauma she endured would not be falling out of bed and cracking her head on the side table.

Where was I?  In the top bunk of the bunk beds, strategically placed next to the full sized bed my husband and daughter were occupying.  I was actually very happy to be up there, having always wanted and been denied as a child, the wonder that is top bunk. 

Today, Cam has been feverish, but acting almost "normal".  By dinner time she was back to herself, and as I type this now, she is banging on the door to her room, clearly trying to escape bed time. 

No luck kid, Mama is TIRED.

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