And the day didn't get any better
Mar. 12th, 2004 12:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sierciaSo, got home from work last night, and we decided to go to Trader Joe's. Where Widget decided to have ANOTHER wild and crazy meltdown. She didn't want to ride in the cart, so we let her walk. When she wouldn't listen to us, it was time for the cart. Which propmted flailing and kicking and screaming. So Imagy took her outside, and I paid for the groceries.
Getting her into the car was another adventure. It actually took two of us to get her into the carseat. I turned on her favorite CD, and she yelled that she didn't want it on, so I turned it off. Which made her even madder. When we told her she needed to calm down and ask politely to turn it back on, she actually somehow marshalled the will to stop crying and ask nicely, even if she went right back to wailing.
She cheered up a bit on the ride home, and was back to normal by the time we got there. She wanted to help me put the groceries away, which is something we do all the time. We're standing in front of the open fridge door, as I try to find a place for the new jar of olives. Suddenly, and without warning, the darling Widget...
projectile vomits past me, and into the fridge.
I couldn't *make* this stuff up folks.
I take the Widget cuddling detail, Imagy takes the cleanup detail. We get Widget cleaned up, into PJs and tucked off to bed. About an hour later, I hear *coughcoughcough* from upstairs, and then about three minutes later, screams like her hair's caught on fire.
Run upstairs to find a little one who has thrown up again, and is now covered in vomit. Chest, face, arms, hair. Scoop her up, carry her into the bathroom and plunk her in the tub, hoping to both clean her up, and give her an easily cleaned spot if she needs to throw up more. I'm trying to get her shirt off (damn tight PJ tops) and she's gagging and crying. I'm trying to help her clear her mouth, and she's crying.
Then this poor vomit clad child sobs to me, "Mommy, I just want a huuuug." Erk. So I hug her, and get all coated in puke too. By the time we got ourselves cleaned up, and Widget's hair dried, and her back into bed, it was easily 11:30.
And I had to be to work at 8:00 this morning. And that horror show is a story for another time.
(She's been fine all day. Either she had a quick little bug, she upset her tummy with all the screamies, or she's got post-nasal drip that triggered her gag reflex. Poor little bug.)
Getting her into the car was another adventure. It actually took two of us to get her into the carseat. I turned on her favorite CD, and she yelled that she didn't want it on, so I turned it off. Which made her even madder. When we told her she needed to calm down and ask politely to turn it back on, she actually somehow marshalled the will to stop crying and ask nicely, even if she went right back to wailing.
She cheered up a bit on the ride home, and was back to normal by the time we got there. She wanted to help me put the groceries away, which is something we do all the time. We're standing in front of the open fridge door, as I try to find a place for the new jar of olives. Suddenly, and without warning, the darling Widget...
projectile vomits past me, and into the fridge.
I couldn't *make* this stuff up folks.
I take the Widget cuddling detail, Imagy takes the cleanup detail. We get Widget cleaned up, into PJs and tucked off to bed. About an hour later, I hear *coughcoughcough* from upstairs, and then about three minutes later, screams like her hair's caught on fire.
Run upstairs to find a little one who has thrown up again, and is now covered in vomit. Chest, face, arms, hair. Scoop her up, carry her into the bathroom and plunk her in the tub, hoping to both clean her up, and give her an easily cleaned spot if she needs to throw up more. I'm trying to get her shirt off (damn tight PJ tops) and she's gagging and crying. I'm trying to help her clear her mouth, and she's crying.
Then this poor vomit clad child sobs to me, "Mommy, I just want a huuuug." Erk. So I hug her, and get all coated in puke too. By the time we got ourselves cleaned up, and Widget's hair dried, and her back into bed, it was easily 11:30.
And I had to be to work at 8:00 this morning. And that horror show is a story for another time.
(She's been fine all day. Either she had a quick little bug, she upset her tummy with all the screamies, or she's got post-nasal drip that triggered her gag reflex. Poor little bug.)
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Oy vey!
Date: 2004-03-12 09:21 pm (UTC)I hope everyone is feeling much better! *smooch*
~Kim
(no subject)
Date: 2004-03-14 05:46 am (UTC)I hope that whatever it was, is over. :(
Poor babies.
All three of you.