Monday, March 2, 2009


And what a night last night was.

Everything started just fine--we had a good Sunday where we'd packed in church, some shopping, lunch and even some housework before going over to Mike's folks' house for Grammy Shanley's birthday. I had warned Donovan all week, "You better be ready to get kissed on because that Grammy of yours has some lost time to make up for." Donny rose to the occasion, laughing and running around and getting into a raspberry battle with his Grandpa. It was very nice.

Then when I put him to bed he threw up. All over both of us. Oddly, my first thought was, "Well, this has'nt happened in quite awhile." Still, I had to strip, he had to strip, the bed had to be stripped and he and I had to shower. Donovan does NOT like showering but, really, it was nonnegotiable. The whole situation made me wonder how that one woman in our childcare classes was doing. The only one in the classes who was alone. I think about her alot and hope she'd doing alright. Nights like last night humble me when I wonder if I would be able to be a single parent. Not even thinking of the finance, just the damn logistics of it all.

Anyhow, I finished showering, Mike dried off the kid, put him in new PJs and I read to him while Mike put fresh sheets on our bed (Donny sleeps in his own crib but we usually get him to sleep in ours). As Mike had writing to do, I laid back down with the kid. And he puked again. Not as bad as the first time (which was Biblical in proportions) but enough for everyone involved to change clothes again and for Mike to change the bed again.

Is that all too much detail? Sorry. I'll cut to the chase. The morning saw this pattern again and we said the hell with it and I stayed home with Donny. And I had to ask the gal I work with to come into work when she'd called off earlier that morning. Very messy. I'm not sure what was wrong with the kid but he was very clingy and sleepy all day. Which causes me much conflict. I mean, I hate that he's under the weather but its so sweet when he climbs on my lap and burrows into me. Most of the day he just wanted to be held, which was fine with me. By about 1 it was obvious he needed a nap. And he slept straight until 5. Then he was much closer to his old self. He even ate some apple sauce and blueberries which have not yet returned to greet us.

Here are some photos of him playing in his new playhouse, which replaces the one he grew out of. The box is what the dishwasher came in. They brought the fridge in sans box: now what type of messed up is that?

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