He woke up on Sunday feeling much better though. Viv was just chilling out with her iPad, and the weather was really nice, so I decided to take Elena with me for a walk around the lake. We were about half way around the lake when I got a text from Jeff, "Vivian is throwing up. A lot." I offered to get someone to pick me up and bring me home, but we figured there wasn't much I could do, so Elena and I finished our walk.
By the time we got home, the worst seemed to be over. Vivian was lying on the sofa watching cartoons with her throw up pot close at hand, and she was keeping down water. A couple hours later she was begging to go outside and play with her friends, but we decided to keep her quarantined and under observation for most of the day. By the evening she was running around and eating normally.
I was really worried that Elena or I would get sick, but we got through the weekend unscathed. We had to go to the medical unit on Monday for Elena's one year old check up, so, ironically, I was worried about us getting sick, because then I would have to reschedule her doctor's appointment.
We almost had to reschedule anyway, because the Monday morning traffic was awful. I thought I had left plenty of time, but I could tell we weren't going to make it by 11. When I called the med unit to tell them we were running a bit late, they said that if we didn't make it by 11:15, they would have to reschedule us for another time. I was not happy. I called Jeff and told him that there was no way I was sitting in an hour and half of traffic just to have to turn around and go home without a doctor's appointment. Good husband that he is, he left work and walked over to the med unit (which is in a regular office building) to check us in, so that we were technically there on time.
I got to the building at 11:10, but Thai parking garages are always an adventure. There were parking guards on each floor, who waved me on and up, until I got a floor where one waved me into what was a completely illegal parking spot, but hey, I just do as I'm told by the guys with snazzy hats and reflective vests. By the time we parked, unloaded the stroller and the baby, took the elevator down to the lobby, then another elevator up to the med unit, we were closer to 11:20 than 11:15, but Jeff was there holding our spot, and we were good to go. We actually sat and waited a few more minutes until they were ready for us. Since Elena is the definition of cute, no one gave us a hard time once they saw her. They all just went into baby goo goo mode.
The rest of the week was pretty routine and drama free. Elena and I both came down with a cold, but our stomachs were okay. Vivian got through gymnastics without tears and had a play date afterwards with one of the girls. In fact, she had three different play dates during the week. Saturday, though, was our culminating social day.
On Saturday we had two birthday parties and a Pampered Chef party. The Pampered Chef party was at the same time as a two year old birthday party for one of our neighbors, so I gave Vivian the choice of which party she wanted to go to, birthday with Daddy or kitchen with Mommy. She chose birthday,
so Elena came with me to Pampered Chef.
After a quick break for some fortifying, non-cake, food, I took Vivian to her second birthday party. This one was for a boy in her class, and it was in one of the other Nichada subdivisions. Vivian is at that age where she's more or less ready to be independent at a birthday party, but I still worry. The last party was a pool party, so I stayed for that. This one was a land party with a magician and face painting. Vivian wanted to be independent, the hostess said it was fine, and most of the other parents were leaving right after dropping off their kids, so I figured it was time to let her try it on her own. To reassure myself, I wrote my cell phone number on a pink sticky note and told Vivian to have a grown up call me if she wanted me to come back. She put the note in her pocket and told me not to worry.
Well, an hour and a half later when the phone rang and a nice woman was asking for Vivian's mom, I worried. When she told me there really wasn't any blood and Vivian was being very brave, I was not overly reassured. I told her I would be right there. As I flew over speed bumps in the golf cart, the logical part of me said that by the time I got there, she would be fine and not need me, but the mommy guilt part of me was saying, if I had stayed, she wouldn't have gotten hurt.
When I got there, sure enough she was running around in the birthday boy's older brother's clothes (shes' taller than a lot of the boys in her class). I did get a hi and a hug though, and she showed me that she still had my, now waterlogged, cell phone number sticky.
It turns out that there is a pool a ways off from where the party was, near the playground. Vivian was near the edge of the pool, and a fifth grade boy who lives in the building pushed her (one hopes gently and in fun) and she fell in, scraping her stomach along the edge of the wall, soaking her clothes, and smearing all her face paint onto her new, white shirt. The fifth grade boy was so ashamed that he ran crying back to his apartment and was not seen again. Obviously, it could have been a lot worse, but it looked pretty bad. Vivian insisted I take a picture to send to Daddy, so that he could see.
The birthday boy's mom had cleaned it and put neosporin on it. She kept saying how brave Vivian was and asking if she was okay. Vivian was so okay that she went down the playground slide on her stomach while I winced. She also ran around the party and our neighborhood (once we got home) lifting up her shirt to proudly show everyone her belly. Jeff and I kept emphasizing this as an example of why you don't goof around near the pool. The only rough part was her shower that night. The water and soap made her stomach sting, and so there were tears, but we gave her more neosporin and cuddles, and she was okay.
After all that excitement, I went to bed at a reasonable hour, so I was surprised by how sluggish I felt when I woke up the next morning. Elena had woken me up, so I went downstairs to get her a bottle and then back upstairs to get her out of bed. I had gotten her out of her crib and changed her diaper, when I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up. The main thought I had was, you cannot throw up on the baby; that would be bad. So I put her back in her crib with her bottle, in her clean diaper and nothing else, and went to our room to tell Jeff he was going to have to take over, because I was not okay. Turns out that the stomach bug waited a week to get me. I was out of commission for Sunday.
By Monday, Vivian's stomach was scabbed over, and I was eating solid food. Elena, Young, and I all still have a cold, but at least everyone's stomachs seem to be getting back to normal. Hopefully this week will be a little less eventful.
Aw, you poor things! If it's not one thing, it's another, right? Glad everyone seems to be on the mend. I'm glad Vivian was so brave about her scrapes, and that you did not throw up on your baby. That's good parenting! ;-)
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