Chundy chundy chundy

I’m extra exhausted after this weekend because Oliver came down with a flu on Friday night. I say I’m tired but I know Neil is the most tired one in the house every with a stiff competition coming from the boy. He woke up randomly at 12am, chugged the most water ever, then woke me up about an hour later pawing at my head. I turned over and so much chundy immediately sprayed all over the bed. My poor baby hasn’t been sick to the point of throwing up since he was 7 months old. I remember it vividly because it was the last time he slept in my arms because he was delirious. (Actually, there was a time this summer he threw up on our front porch, but that was because he gagged on a green onion from the garden…)

Sick boy when he was 7 months old

It’s times like last night that I’m really glad he sleeps in our bed. He starts the night in his bed, but crawls in with us after a few hours. He was so upset and scared and I am happy we were right there to help him.

Neil sent me to go sleep in Oliver’s bed and he stayed in our bed with the boy. I woke up when I heard Oliver’s cries that he needed the bucket and tried to help. I love Neil so much and I love how he loves Oliver. We are obsessed with him. I wonder if he knows.

The whole weekend was us being sloths and a lot of tv. He’s better now but now it seems it’s my turn to feel garbage-y (his term). I think I have PTSD about the last time I was ill to the point of throwing up because that’s when the whole hospital stay happened. Being sick these days takes it out of me. I remember when I was in my 20s if I was ever sick I would just chug Buckley’s and knock back a handful of Tylenol cold tablets and I’d be good. I was working and didn’t want to call in sick because I would have to find someone to cover for me. When I was teaching I didn’t like sick days because they were usually more work for me. But getting sick now my body just goes “noooo” and doesn’t want to do anything. Oliver didn’t want to do anything when he was sick so maybe my body reverts to being 3, and my brain is still 33.

I don’t like it. I’m tired.

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