A No-Fun Friday

It's 7 p.m. Friday night and I hope, HOPE, my maternal duties are finished for the night after the past 2 hours. The only thing I really look forward to doing the rest of the night is putting my sick baby Gabe to bed. 

You see, we just finished a 2-hour puking marathon. It started around 3, when he awoke from his nap prematurely and wasn't feeling well. I knew his coughing and sinuses were keeping him from resting, so I offered that maybe he should just hang out and watch "Cars" which is one of his favorite movies. I know, I am one awesome mom. He happily accepted. 

As I put the finishing touches on my article for the week that was due to my editor by 5, Gabe repeatedly came in complaining of a belly ache. He even asked me, "Mom... Kiss it" as he lifted up his size 2T t-shirt and exposed his little Gutierrez belly. 

Around 5, Robin stopped over before she headed out to D.C. for the weekend. What timing. As I was telling her about how Gabe wasn't feeling well the past 2 days, he comes into the living room and... BARF... All over my yoga mat, primed for my pending workout. All over the new sofa cushions we just purchased. All over the wooden floor. 

We hit the ground running to the bathroom. I throw him in the tub as Robin scurries for paper towels. What a friend, let me tell you. She has since been christened "Aunt Robin."

Gabe wants out, I pick him up, wrap him in his towel. "Mom...." He looks at me. BARF. All over my left shoulder, down my left side. Yuck. I hold back the nausea I am now experiencing. Robin comes in, takes Gabe. I put it all out of my mind as I go to mop the living room. I jump in the shower, handwashing everything that has come into contact with... Yeah, so Robin helps with Gabe as I take care of all of this. 

Afterwards, as I come into the living room freshly cleaned from the marathon in my bath towel, I see Gabe seated on a kitchen chair in the center of the room, holding a plastic bucket in his lap. Poor buddy. I do not, Do Not, know what I would have done without Robin. I probably would have had a mental breakdown and not handled it near as well. Being alone with a sick kid sucks. Robin was totally there for the both of us. 

She just left to catch her train to D.C. I sit here, alone, waiting for Thomas the Train's movie to end, hoping that he feels better. Every time he coughs, every move he makes, I nearly jump out of the chair to help put the bucket up to his face. 

I hope he can fall asleep tonight and be well. If not, I am not sure how I am going to get through it. 

I have a way newfound respect for my Mom, who was awesome when we were sick as kids. She would get out a wet, cold washcloth and lay it on our foreheads or the backs of our necks and gradually wipe off our faces... I am glad I can pass this trait on, it was so soothing when I was sick. Even to this day, like back in the first trimester just a few months ago, when I would be sick, I'd wish Mom were there with that wet, cold washcloth. Getting it yourself just isn't as soothing. 

So back to Gabe and this bucket. Let's see how tonight goes.