My sweet husband worked all night last night, and is also working all night tonight. So of course, it's time for sickness in our family. At least we're not on the road this time.
I drove the kids to church this morning while hubby tried to get some sleep. Church was wonderful, but things went downhill fast on the ride home. It started when the Papaya began an ominous, whining cry. I actually pulled over and asked if he were sick. "No sick!" he whined. When asked what was wrong, all I could get out of him was, "I lost my pennies!" My worst fears were realized when, a few minutes after I started driving again, the unmistakable sounds and smells of vomiting, followed by frantic crying, emanated from behind me. I was still a 20 minute drive from home, so I rolled down the windows, kept driving, and tried to stay calm. Poor Papaya fell asleep in his vomit.
He's vomited several times since, but not for the last four hours. I have high hopes for a solid night tonight, although every other time the Papaya's got a vomiting illness, it's lasted for about a week. He has the strangest, most uncanny ability to seem like he's well again, only to create a noisome bodily-fluid explosion somewhere in the house (or car) after you've got your hopes up and your guard down. I'm giving this two full days before I relax.
Did I mention that I hate vomit? I really do - more than most other things. I think I must have a mini vomit-phobia, because just the thought of it happening to me or a family member makes my hands shake and my heart race. The mess, the smell, the unpredictability, the germs - I really hate it. Being in the house, alone, all night, with a baby and a vomiting toddler, is like a nightmare come true. We talked for a good bit of our church service today (our church is so small that most sermons become discussions) about what it meant to trust God. I didn't want Him to test me so soon - not in this way, anyway!
I do want to trust God. And so I'll try to stop jumping with alarm every time I hear a noise from the Papaya's bedroom (he's asleep in there now) and trust (at least hope) that the last four vomit-free hours will continue. And I'll tell myself, once again, that it's really not that bad and that God will give me strength and calmness to handle anything that might happen tonight. And maybe, instead of typing here, I should get to bed myself and catch up on some of my own sleep, while I can!
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Inexplicable
Most of the time, I have a pretty good sense of what's going on with my kids. But every now and then, I'm mystified.
Such as after this conversation (the Papaya was perfectly happy right until this point - he was playing while I was cutting potatoes in the kitchen as a part of supper preparation):
Papaya: (whiney voice) - Don't eat the strawberry, Mommy!
Mommy: What? I don't have any strawberries. (There haven't been any strawberries in our house in weeks, although we did eat some two weeks ago in Flagstaff.)
Papaya: Mommy, don't eat the strawberry. Spit out the strawberry, Mommy. Spit it out!
Mommy: (Opening her mouth wide & showing Papaya.) My mouth is empty, Papaya. There's no strawberry in there. There are no strawberries in this house.
(Papaya walks away & starts to cry.)
Mommy: Why are you crying, Papaya?
Papaya: I lost my strawberries!
Note: Whenever the Papaya is unhappy for no specific reason, or at least no reason that he can articulate (for example, waking up too soon from a nap), he kind of whines/cries, and when asked why, says "I lost my pennies!" It looks like there may be a variation on that now.
Such as after this conversation (the Papaya was perfectly happy right until this point - he was playing while I was cutting potatoes in the kitchen as a part of supper preparation):
Papaya: (whiney voice) - Don't eat the strawberry, Mommy!
Mommy: What? I don't have any strawberries. (There haven't been any strawberries in our house in weeks, although we did eat some two weeks ago in Flagstaff.)
Papaya: Mommy, don't eat the strawberry. Spit out the strawberry, Mommy. Spit it out!
Mommy: (Opening her mouth wide & showing Papaya.) My mouth is empty, Papaya. There's no strawberry in there. There are no strawberries in this house.
(Papaya walks away & starts to cry.)
Mommy: Why are you crying, Papaya?
Papaya: I lost my strawberries!
Note: Whenever the Papaya is unhappy for no specific reason, or at least no reason that he can articulate (for example, waking up too soon from a nap), he kind of whines/cries, and when asked why, says "I lost my pennies!" It looks like there may be a variation on that now.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
She did it!
Around 2 a.m. last night, I awoke to the sound of extreme unhappiness from the co-sleeper attached to my bed. The Banana was lying on her stomach! She must have turned over - for the first time ever, from her back to her stomach (although she couldn't manage to return to her back again). And we missed it. The trauma of the great event was so great for Banana that an extended nursing session was necessary before she could get back to sleep. But - another first - we got a great big smile from her while giving her tummy-time this afternoon, and she lasted a full five minutes before she started crying!
In other news, I heard the Papaya awake from his nap this afternoon, opened the door to his room, and was greeted by a strong, extremely unpleasant odor. "Poopy diaper, Mommy", he said. "Disgusting!" And he proferred out to me the offending diaper, having pulled it off of his bottom himself. He was right - it was very disgusting - and even more disgusting than the diaper was the poop that was smeared down his legs and had fallen onto his blankets and sheet. I thought he had learned, from the time that he pulled poop out of his diaper and threw it on the floor while he was supposed to be napping, that I didn't really like that kind of thing. Ugh!
I'm afraid full potty training success is still far in the Papaya's future.
In other news, I heard the Papaya awake from his nap this afternoon, opened the door to his room, and was greeted by a strong, extremely unpleasant odor. "Poopy diaper, Mommy", he said. "Disgusting!" And he proferred out to me the offending diaper, having pulled it off of his bottom himself. He was right - it was very disgusting - and even more disgusting than the diaper was the poop that was smeared down his legs and had fallen onto his blankets and sheet. I thought he had learned, from the time that he pulled poop out of his diaper and threw it on the floor while he was supposed to be napping, that I didn't really like that kind of thing. Ugh!
I'm afraid full potty training success is still far in the Papaya's future.
Monday, April 17, 2006
"I never eat poop!"
I wish I could convey the conviction with which the Papaya pronounces the aforementioned sentence, especially in conversation with a relative or friend. It's just one of the many joys of attempting to potty-train him.
Actually, as far as I know, he never has eaten poop (at least human poop; I did fish some dog poop out of his mouth at a playground in Flagstaff). But he does seem to find joy in playing with poopy water - namely, that readily accessible basin of it he finds underneath himself during his attempts at becoming a "big boy". We bought a cute little potty chair for him, but he prefers to sit on the big toilet with his feet dangling beneath him - most likely drawn to that tantalizing basin of water. So far, he's dunked his bottom in (numerous times), soaked his sock-clad feet in it, and who knows what else. He's also fingerpainted on his legs and the toilet seat with the poop he reached back and found. And despite all the fun he's having, we don't seem to be making any real progress in convincing him to deposit his poop in there on a regular basis.
Perhaps our vegetarian, whole grain diet is part of the problem - pooping 3 or 4 times a day is a normal average for Papaya - more often, in fact, than his breast-fed sister. I guess it's asking a lot of him to interrupt his play that many times a day to run to the bathroom - perhaps what that boy needs is a little more refined flour or something. We've tried to sweeten the deal by offering him candy every time he poops in the toilet. This is somewhat effective - he usually gets candy at least twice a day - but hasn't done much towards consistency. He does like to talk about it, though, bringing up the topic frequently regardless of who is listening or whether we are at the table or not: "Poop in the toilet, get candy! Poop in your diaper, get a dirty bottom!" And it is truly delightful to hear him yelling from the bathroom, "I did a weal poopie in the twoylett!"
We've now bought him (he picked it out) a train engine named Toby (from "Thomas the Tank Engine", which he loves). Toby sits on Papaya's bookcase and will be his to open & enjoy when he puts all his poop in the toilet, every single time, every single day for an entire week. So far, he's never gone more than two days in a row (and even that was pretty unusual). But we'll get there someday. Then we'll start work on getting him to pee in the toilet. Sigh. I foresee that much cleaning of bodily excretions (beyond mere diaper changes) is in our future.
Actually, as far as I know, he never has eaten poop (at least human poop; I did fish some dog poop out of his mouth at a playground in Flagstaff). But he does seem to find joy in playing with poopy water - namely, that readily accessible basin of it he finds underneath himself during his attempts at becoming a "big boy". We bought a cute little potty chair for him, but he prefers to sit on the big toilet with his feet dangling beneath him - most likely drawn to that tantalizing basin of water. So far, he's dunked his bottom in (numerous times), soaked his sock-clad feet in it, and who knows what else. He's also fingerpainted on his legs and the toilet seat with the poop he reached back and found. And despite all the fun he's having, we don't seem to be making any real progress in convincing him to deposit his poop in there on a regular basis.
Perhaps our vegetarian, whole grain diet is part of the problem - pooping 3 or 4 times a day is a normal average for Papaya - more often, in fact, than his breast-fed sister. I guess it's asking a lot of him to interrupt his play that many times a day to run to the bathroom - perhaps what that boy needs is a little more refined flour or something. We've tried to sweeten the deal by offering him candy every time he poops in the toilet. This is somewhat effective - he usually gets candy at least twice a day - but hasn't done much towards consistency. He does like to talk about it, though, bringing up the topic frequently regardless of who is listening or whether we are at the table or not: "Poop in the toilet, get candy! Poop in your diaper, get a dirty bottom!" And it is truly delightful to hear him yelling from the bathroom, "I did a weal poopie in the twoylett!"
We've now bought him (he picked it out) a train engine named Toby (from "Thomas the Tank Engine", which he loves). Toby sits on Papaya's bookcase and will be his to open & enjoy when he puts all his poop in the toilet, every single time, every single day for an entire week. So far, he's never gone more than two days in a row (and even that was pretty unusual). But we'll get there someday. Then we'll start work on getting him to pee in the toilet. Sigh. I foresee that much cleaning of bodily excretions (beyond mere diaper changes) is in our future.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
