I Resolve to Buy More Resolve

Posted by: , December 29, 2008 in 9:03 pm


Benjamin and I just ate Hannah Montana macaroni and cheese.  This is an exciting accomplishment seeing as how just a few short days ago he could not keep down even a slice of toast.

Yep.  Christmas did not go well in the Allen household.

At 7:30 AM on Christmas Eve morning, I woke to Benjamin crying.  When I arrived next to his Tonka truck-sheeted bed, he was gagging and choking.  In an unsympathetic, half-slumber I grumbled, “Calm down.  What is wrong?”  I ushered him to the bathroom where the poor thing plopped down on his Baby Bjorn potty and proceeded to vomit into his own dinosaur underpants. 

The whole scenario repeated itself at 8:30 AM. Goodbye, Christmas.

I called the pediatrician and was told by a kindly nurse that I was the twentieth mommy she had spoken to that day.  Apparently, a stomach virus was going around.  If only it had kept going.  Nurse Kindly provided me with the necessary details of a ridiculous regimen I would immediately need to begin.  It included giving my child a teaspoon (yes, TEASPOON) of water every twenty minutes.  When he was able to keep down a full tablespoon, I was permitted to re-introduce food. 

Food, in this case, was being defined as:  a saltine.

At that point, Michael called and canceled our annual trip to the in-laws.  They offered to bring Benjamin’s gifts to our house—a mere half-hour trip—so, we told them we’d keep them updated on his progress.  It turns out, he did begin to feel better and we were able to invite them over that evening.  Benjamin was happy.  He received a bunch of Thomas goodies, three DVDs, a glow-in-the-dark world globe, markers, snuggly clothes and a fancy schmancy fire hose (handmade by his Nana and Pop Pop) to go with the fire truck Michael built him for his birthday.

Christmas morning was peaceful—no vomiting.  Plenty of goodies!

Later, we went to my mother’s house and Benjamin was cautiously reacquainted with food.  He appeared lackadaisical but overall, he was in good spirits.  He was excited to receive even more Thomas trains, more snuggly clothes, a new fleece blanket and among some other goodies, a guitar!

That night, at 2 AM, he vomited all over his blankets and onto the carpet next to his bed.  So much for The Saltine Diet. 

After I scrubbed the acrid smell of vomit out of our, Michael and I tried desperately to soothe our pale, bedrazzled-looking little boy.  We changed his pajamas, washed his face and tucked him back into bed.  We told him it was going to be okay, that we were so sorry he didn’t feel well.  I assured him the carpet would be okay and that his sheets could be washed.  Finally, he gazed up at us and said sleepily, “Now Miley won’t like me anymore.”

AH!  But just a few days later, he assures me that he and Miss Cyrus are back on good terms.  I’m glad.  I didn’t want to have to make a call to Billy Ray.

 


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