I'm sitting on the couch, flipping between Facebook, Blogger, and email, while watching a movie with R. (Yes, I apologized first thing this morning for my behavior yesterday and we talked it out. Then we hugged it out. Then I colored. It was therapy day at the Dahl house this morning.)
I'm trying to decide what to write about. I'm hoping for an idea to strike me. Throughout the day today I've thought, "ooooh! I should blog about this!" but for the life of me I have no idea what any of those post worthy events were now.
I look over at R and he's all wrapped up in a blanket and I think...hey! I can write about temperature - whether in a house, in a marriage, in life...temperatures change and it's a balancing act. An act that, like a thermostat, is always in a fluctuating state..sometimes up, sometimes down...but always striving to achieve that desired setting.
In the middle of figuring out how to stretch the above paragraph into a post, I think I hear a funny noise. Did one of the kids come downstairs? I look around and don't see anyone. Maybe it was a sound from the movie. Then I hear it again, and it sounds like a whimper. I know that I wouldn't be able to hear either of the kids whimpering if they were in their rooms, so I look at R to see if he heard it. He did and he's already getting up to look around.
I'm not sure where T was, but I hear R talking to him and they head for the bathroom. T's apparently got a bit of an upset tummy and has gotten a little poop in his pants. R puts him on the toilet, and runs upstairs to get him some clean underwear and I hear T start to cough.
However, it's the cough that would wake me in an instant from a sound, dead sleep. It's the dreaded 'I'm going to vomit in the next 30 seconds' cough. I dash to the bathroom where T is sitting on the potty and looking so small and scared and as I say, "Do you feel like you need to.." he starts to throw up.
Poor guy! It just keeps on coming and it was just horrible start to finish. He was throwing up on the floor since he was sitting on the potty, so he got upset he was making a mess. I tell him that it's no big deal, the most important thing to Dad and I is that he's okay. We'll clean up the mess. And then he vomits again, and he's just so freaked out, so he starts shaking his head 'no, no no' and there is spewage going everywhere.
So naturally, I start to gag. R comes over and sits with T while I get a breath or twenty of non vomit air. R, God bless him (for real, God bless this man) starts to clean up the mess. I bring over a roll of paper towels and a trash bag, then head upstairs to get T some clean clothes and a cool washcloth.
The clean up from the digestive pyrotechnics isn't as bad as I thought it would be, and once we got T settled on the couch, it only took a few minutes and a general dousing with Lysol to revert the bathroom to a hopefully stomach virus free zone.
T falls asleep pretty quickly and we keep an eye on him for a couple hours then move him back to bed. Where, of course, he immediately wakes up and starts to throw up again.
Dear blogging gods, I promise to me more specific when wishing for blog topics. Please spare the rest of the house from the same fate as T. Pleaseohpleaseohplease.