9 Days in January
5 a.m. Friday morning. Got up with Riley, who started crying unconsolably and would have nothing but Mama to rock him in order to feel better. Uh oh. I'm wondering if he's coming down with something. He decides to just stay up, refusing to go back to sleep, so I stay up too.
6:30 a.m. Casey wakes up after I've finally gotten Riley back to sleep. Casey is up for good. We go play in the living room, and Riley gets up again about 7:30. Paul is up and gone by 8:00.
8 a.m. Breakfast for two boys. Meals seem to have become a matter of persuasion; they're trying to become picky eaters, though today Riley seems quite grumpy and refuses to eat much at all.
9 a.m. I go into a cleaning frenzy while the boys are watching Sesame Street. We're supposed to go to have lunch with Paul in Sausalito today, which means prep work to take the boys on the road for most of the day.
9:30 a.m. Packing up supplies and dressing boys and myself to go. Riley gets increasingly clingy and rather lethargic. To go or not to go? When asked whether they want to go see Daddy, both boys cheer up and start repeatedly saying DaDaDaDa... Answer given.
10 a.m. We're on the road, packed in the car and going to accomplish some errands before the drive north to Sausalito. Boys are well-behaved, maybe too well-behaved for normal. I get enough more yarn just to to "finish up a project" to make me now qualify as having a yarn stash (in addition to my fabric stash, my art supplies stash and various other craft stashes).
11 a.m. We call Paul from the road and warn him that we're coming. Casey conks out early for a nap, Riley hangs on. I plan on just driving some extra to give both of them a chance at a decent nap.
12 noon. We get to Paul's, I take the boys in to surprise him in the office. Only problem is he's nowhere to be found. The boys and I go out to the big field across from their office with the great view. It's all a gorgeous green this time of year. Casey happily runs around but Riley refuses, wants to be carried. Tim, Paul's immediate boss, goes in search of him and later informs him there's been an infestation of rugrats. Paul joins us and we try to run the boys around a bit more.
12:30 Off to lunch at Fresh Choice in Corta Madera, nearby. Corta Madera is a very liberal, very wealthy suburb of the San Rafael (North S.F. Bay) area; I'm always rather stunned by the overwhelming whiteness of the population. They may be liberal, but apparently affluential whites are the only ones who can afford to live around there.
1 p.m. Lunch. We end up bringing in the double stroller for the boys to sit in since there aren't any highchairs left. Paul and I always hope to be able to have some conversation during a lunch, but it's always rushed when the boys are along, or taken up with attempts to keep their behavior under control. This gets complicated by the fact that they find each other's antics hilarious and egg each other on. This time, however, Riley refuses to eat and sits listlessly all during lunch. Definitely sick.
2 p.m. Drop Paul off and head home, worrying about poor Riley, who looks even worse. Drive like a maniac in a vain attempt to get home sooner.
2:30 p.m. Riley does some projectile vomiting all over the car as soon as I have gotten off the San Rafael bridge. I pull across three lanes of traffic and off the nearest offramp, park and start cleaning and comforting. Luckily I brought cleanup stuff and a change of clothes. Never go anywhere with these guys without two changes of clothes and plenty of cleanup supplies. (Well, besides all the usuals like diaper change necessities, snacks, drinks, some books or toys, etc.) Riley is one miserable little puppy. We drive the rest of the way home as I try to call the doctor on the cell phone to get in to see him.
3:30 p.m. We get home with just enough time to restock supplies, change everyone (myself included, due to stray puke), and leave to see the doctor for the 4:45 appt.
4:45 We get to the doc's office and then wait for an hour for him to be available. Riley droops barely conscious in his stroller; very scary for a parent to see. I end up holding/propping him in the front seat while trying to keep Casey entertained in the back seat. I don't dare take Riley onto my lap and then have them call us; I'll never get him back into the stroller without it taking a long time and I can't wheel the monstrosity through their narrow corridors with one hand while holding one boy. Fortunately the big fishtank keeps Casey fairly interested for a long time. Riley is burning up.
6 p.m. After waiting another half hour in the exam room, the doc comes in, examines Riley and pronounces a 102 degree fever and stomach flu, which is going around. He coaches me on rehydration (a teaspoon of fluids like Pedialite, NOT water or juice, every 20 minutes), fever reduction and how to properly do back-end suppositories in case Riley can't keep down oral medicine. (Just to pass along the knowledge, with babies and toddlers, the directive is: Insert the suppository with your gloved pinky finger up past the SECOND knuckle, past their muscle ring to avoid not only them pushing the pill out, but to get past the nerve endings in that area so the thing doesn't give them a horrible burning sensation as it dissolves.) Joy. A teaspoon of fluid every 20 minutes all night? That is just impossible...
7 p.m. I debate about filling the prescription now, decide to try the oral fever reducers first since Casey has really had enough by now and is feeling hot as well. Home to try to feed them some dinner, rehydrate Riley, bathe them and comfort them before bed. Bath goes pretty well as Riley cheers up slightly after getting home, and the fever seems lessened after small sips of Pedialite for several hours.
8 p.m. Paul gets home shortly after I've started the bedtime rituals. Riley is still quite sick, won't drink much and is undoubtedly dehydrated, though he has kept down the Tylenol and the fluids, so the fever is under better control. We hunker down for a little quiet time as the boys settle down to sleep.
8:30 p.m. Our neighbor rings the doorbell; his truck has been stolen out of their driveway sometime during the day. As our front room faces their house, they're hoping we might have seen something. They call the police; Paul tries to persuade me that I should go tell them what little I saw during the day when I was home. I'm convinced it can't be important but he makes me go talk to them anyway. I end up talking to the police officer and the neighbors. They're quite upset, naturally.
9:30 p.m. The police leave next door. Paul and I watch an interrupted hour of Star Trek, and I go tend to a crying boy, changing diapers, as the doorbell rings again. It's our neighbor again, letting us know the truck has been found; he'd forgotten that he left it in the BART parking lot. Very embarrassed, he is happy as Paul cheers and shakes his hand. Everybody is relieved that we didn't actually have a crime happen on our quiet little court.
10:p.m. We get Riley up for more meds and more liquids. Rock him back to sleep.
11 p.m through 4:30 a.m. Rock Riley, give more fluids. And so on throughout the night; he's distressed off and on through the night and won't settle down unless I hold him and rock him through most of the night. Casey gets up twice, needing a change and some fluids too, as he seems hot as well. Thank god for my new rocker (which was my Christmas present from Paul), as it makes rocking for extended periods much more bearable. I get no sleep, as the one hour I manage to lay down I'm listening for sounds from the boys, and just as I'm drifting off Casey wakes up crying.
5 a.m. Riley is asleep, Casey is asleep, I am totally exhausted and collapse in bed. Paul takes the morning duties. 24 hours, whoohoo!
And the weekend continued from there. Not much sleep. I kept thinking the whole thing would get better, but it kept going on. And on. Here it is Sunday a week later, and Riley is just getting over the cold that followed the stomach flu, and now Paul has it. There is light at the end of the tunnel, but it's been a hell of a week. I want some time off. Hahaha.
