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I’m Just One Stomach Flu Away From My Goal Weight

Song Lyric of the Day:

I’ll be your keeper for life as your guardian I’ll be your warrior of care your first warden I’ll be your angel on call, I’ll be on demand The greatest honor of all, as your guardian
 
 

Last Wednesday night was my turn to put Coraline to bed. Rich and I alternate nights, so I was at the bat. Two books in (Coraline averages at least four or five), I noticed she was going a bit slack against my arm, like she was falling asleep. I know that when my sister S watched her one night, Coraline passed out halfway through a book after an exhausting evening playing with her cousin. She’d never done that with me before, but I enjoyed watching her sweet little face as she drifted off. Only she wasn’t falling asleep — she was going to be sick. No sooner had I smiled at her sleepy countenance than she opened her mouth and vomit hit me. All over. And I mean all over — I even got some in my bra.* Which is something that, as a parent, you expect might happen. But when it actually does happen? Oh dear God. I shifted her a bit, and she vomited again; my jeans were now soaked. I stood up to go holler for Rich, and — you guessed it — she got sick again. She threw up in the hall when I yelled down the stairs for Rich to come upstairs NOW. She threw up again in the hall bathroom when I sat her on the counter to start cleaning her up. We managed to get her stripped down to her diaper and set her in her playpen in the living room while we set about cleaning up her room (even her rocker and ottoman got drenched), the hallway, and the bathroom. Once we finished, Rich took over bedtime duties so I could go shower (I’m gonna wash that barf right outta my hair, I’m gonna wash that barf right outta my hair …). I now think of that night as The Night of 1,000 Vomits.

Fortunately, Coraline was perfectly fine by Thursday morning. Unfortunately, Rich and I were not. We both woke up horribly sick to our stomachs and ended up calling in sick to work. For me, the day went by in a horizontal haze since almost all I could manage to do was lay curled up in pain on the couch downstairs and whine about how horribly nauseated I was (worst nausea since my first trimester). We were both still sick Friday; Rich managed to drag himself into the office while I was still very weak and worked from home. It wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that I felt my stomach starting to return to normal. The only upside to having been that sick and eating next to nothing thanks to an all-but-dead appetite? I now weigh the least I’ve weighed since 10 days after giving birth to Coraline. But for those four nausea-filled days, even chicken soup turned my stomach. The faintest scent of any food made me want to hurl. Now the trick is to keep my workout momentum going so I can at least maintain my weight. I’d been wanting to shed a few pounds of late, but I didn’t want/expect to have a stomach bug do the work for me. 

And in case my blog post title didn’t give it away, I’m a huge fan of The Devil Wears Prada, which is where that Emily Blunt quote is from. Although I’ll stick to working out to drop a couple more pounds.

Now that we’ve all gotten over that stomach bug, we’ve hit the jackpot again in that Coraline was diagnosed yesterday with a double ear infection (it’s worse in the right ear) and I woke up sick with respiratory and sinus congestion this morning. Just in time for Rich to go out of town for business and our high school reunion this weekend. Let the fun begin! Again. Sigh.

*For you youngsters out there who needed an extra dose of birth control, you’re welcome.

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