On Friday I was complaining about our family pictures having to be delayed until this week because of the craptastic forecast. It turns out that it was a blessing in disguise.
On Friday when I was mid run at the gym my phone rang. It was Andrea calling to tell me that Andrew had started throwing up. It was 5:13 so I called J to make sure he was on his way there to get him. He was so I went back to my run (judge away but that was the only day I could get in a long workout all week). When I got home Andrew was on the couch with towels under him. I asked J how he was doing and he told me he'd thrown up two times since he'd been home. Between puking he was jumping up and down on the couch acting like he was totally fine.
Over the next 4 hours he proceeded to throw up a dozen more times - pretty much every 20 mins. He was no longer acting fine between bouts of sickness, though. At this point he was laying with his head in my lap looking sad:
I was stroking his forehead and just hoping he would fall asleep and that would be the end of it. He would fall asleep, but after 20 or so minutes he would wake up, cry and puke. Ugh. We gave him a quick bath and I cuddled him for a while. We put some towels down in his crib in case he got sick at night and put him to bed around 10:00. He slept a while until waking up crying at 11:30. I rocked him for a little while and got him back to bed, where he slept the rest of the night until 6:30 Saturday morning.
He seemed to be getting back to his old self on Saturday morning so I thought it was over.
That is until I found him curled up on the recliner in his room at 11:00. I thought maybe he was just ready for a nap so I rocked him a bit and put him down. While he was napping for three hours J and I laid the sod in the back yard. When he woke up at 3:00 I went in to get him and was upset to see that he was all flushed and he was hot to the touch. I took his temperature and he had a fever of 102. Damn.
We spent the evening alternating doses of Tylenol and ibuprofen to bring his fever down. Andrew ate a little, but not much. And he never pooped all day even though he was the gassiest kid alive that day. I kept checking him because I couldn't believe that that stink was just gas. I gave him a bath and he kind of freaked me out with his vacant stare and he started shaking halfway through. I hurried up and got him rinsed and bundled up in his towel and just rocked him in the recliner for a few minutes. My poor little munchkin was so sad and it just broke my heart. I hate seeing him that way.
Sunday morning he got me up a little after 7:00. I rocked him for a while thinking maybe he'd fall back to sleep. No dice - he was up. I was thrilled when he ate a little breakfast, but he was still cranky. I could tell he still wasn't feeling well because he actually sat still with me on the couch. Normally he doesn't last more than a few seconds:
Thankfully around noon he seemed to be back to his normal self. He still wasn't eating all that much, but he was drinking and snacking (some). Last night he was refusing to go to bed - I think because he felt better and wanted to play - and this morning he is back. He's currently back at daycare and I am working from home because I am freaking exhausted from dealing with a sick toddler all weekend. I guess on the plus side I didn't have to use any PTO...