Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Initiation ( of sorts)

Last night, Geoff and I had our first foray into the toddler/own child stomach virus arena. Poor Arlo woke me up at 11:15 ( yes, I was in bed, and had been since 9) crying. Just as I went into his room to check on him, I heard that vaguely familiar sound you hear when someone vomits. I didn't hesitate to rip him up out of the crib and sit him up on the changing table( thanks years of CPR training) and check for signs of difficulty breathing and breathing obstructions. He was fine, but he was so scared and confused, which begs the question: What in the world is going on in the mind of a child the first time they throw up? Is it " What in the hell is my body doing" or  maybe more of a Talking Heads vision of " Well, how did I get here?"

Regardless of what he was thinking, he was frightened beyond belief. Geoff hadn't come home from work yet, and I was basically just encouraging him to " get it all out", which now I think is hilarious because he has no idea what that means. I think that was my 21 year old sorority sister dialogue coming forth. At any rate, Geoff came home quickly thereafter and said " I knew something was wrong when his light was on and I heard howling from the house." We changed his clothes about 4 times, and finally ended up in the living room watching Thomas and Dora at like 230 in the morning, with Geoff and I discussing  Sir Topam Hatt's genuine intentions for the engines( we think he's a bit of a harsh employer and might be an IRS case to be explored)  and how Dora is still sounds like she's screaming when she talks. About anything. I would hate to invite her to a dinner party, she'd be like Kevin Nealon's character in SNL called Mr. No Depth Perception, but hers would be related to voice volume as if her guests were 600 miles away: " PASS ME THE SALT! I NEED MORE GRAVY! HOW WAS YOUR DAY? I CLIMBED UP CANDY MOUNTAIN, WENT THROUGH THE BALLOON FOREST AND ENDED UP SOMEWHERE IN MEXICO!"

Somewhere between Dora and an episode of Blue's Clues Arlo finally nodded off, sitting up. He had insisted on keeping his mouth somewhat open throughout the ordeal primarily because I'm sure his mouth tasted horrible, and also because he was probably scared of what might happen again. Once he popped his pacifier in I knew he was feeling better, and I nodded off as well to the sounds of Steve and Blue attempting to solve the latest issue concerning where they had left Blue's Science Diet food and organic turkey treats. It was an intense night/morning, but we have now been initiated, and I feel more like a mom now. I now inherently understand what my mom was feeling when she would tell me " I wish I could take away all your hurt" when I was sick. Much thanks to my mother and father-in-law for answering their phone at midnight and assuring me that Arlo was going to be okay, and to my parents, who I know were watching over us and most likely cackling at how freaked out I was over puke.

1 comment:

Mitzi said...

my mom used to tell me something like that, too: "i wish it was me instead of you."