It started out all fine and good. We had a great trip to South Carolina to visit my dad and stepmom for Thanksgiving--
real live alligators, tours of pirates' houses, trains, toys, aquarium visits, birthday celebrations, Christmas tree decorating, holiday feasts...
Brendan projectile vomited all over himself and his car seat in the middle of our 10 hour car ride home. Naturally, the gas station we pulled off to had closed the women's bathroom for repairs so I was forced to clean Brendan off with a bunch of paper towels and wipes on a disgusting pee-covered floor while Matt attempted to get as much puke off the car seat as he could and keep Niall from playing trains on the rim of the orange stained toilet seat.
We made it home ok, got the boys clean and bathed, fed Brendan some baby oatmeal, assuming that was the most bland thing I could possibly give him. I put him down for the night and went back up to check on him before I went to bed, only to find that he had thrown up again, rolled around in it and fallen back to sleep once it dried so that his whole body was covered in the perfect mix of crusty and goopy.
Woke him up to give him another bath, and then little B thought he had slept through the night and was ready to be up for the day. He didn't get back to sleep til 3am that night and then everyone woke up at 6 for the day.
Monday night, same thing pretty much.
Last night, everyone went to sleep ok, Brendan seemed to be holding his food down. I felt like I had sunken into a heavenly marshmallow cloud of happiness when I hit the pillow last night... Until I woke up at 3 am to the sensation that my extremeties were about to fall off. I went downstairs to turn on the thermostat which I was certain had accidentally been turned down or off... to find out that our house temperature was holding steady at a crisp 57 degrees and would not budge when I tried to turn it up to the normal 72.
My heart sank into my stomach when I thought about the fact that I had been woken up in such discomfort while in comfy long pants, a long sleeve shirt and huddled under a down comforter-- my sweet boys, on the other hand, are blanket-kicker-offers and they don't know to pull their blankets up over their chests when they are cold.
I could have just died right there on the spot when I went in to cover Brendan and pressed the back of my hand against his frozen ears, hands and nose. All he was wearing was a little cotton pajama suit. Same thing with Niall. Of course, when I swaddled him up in some fuzzy blankies, he woke right up and once again refused to go back to sleep (and kicked the blankets off again).
This morning, my eyes felt like someone had stabbed them and then set them on fire after not sleeping 3 nights in a row. Then, we found out that we need a new furnace (which should cost a pretty penny) and won't be able to have it installed until tomorrow. To top off the cake, I had 2 separate doctors offices call me today to cancel appointments that I had made months ago.
Have I depressed you enough yet? I think I will leave it at that and maybe one more cute picture for the road...
|This is immediately following a massive puke session-- I think I could learn a thing or two from his outlook on life ;)|