My day started off like any other day. My children have no idea what the end of daylight savings means and are up at 6am every single morning now. Most of the time I can get them to go and play in their rooms and squeeze in a few extra ZZZ's before they decide that sleep is for the weak and I've had my fair share. I also take the monkeys downstairs so Dan could catch some more sleep because he works nights. See... I'm not a total bitch. I can be a giving, caring person too!
I don't remember pissing in my kid's Cheerios this morning, but everything is a fog before my first two cups of coffee, so there is a chance that it did happen. Whether it be piss or just toddler hate of everything, both of my spawn were on a roll today. Fighting, screaming, crying, kicking, punching and finally more screaming. I don't know how or why everything went from a fan spraying shit all over my morning, to quiet and peaceful, but I try not to question these things and make the most of it.
Somehow I managed to talk O and C into doing their chores and playing outside in the patio. Things were fine for most of the day. My best friend and her family came over later in the afternoon so D could look at their computer (nerd). While our husbands played, we took the opportunity to
We came home and I started dinner. The kids were all playing and being kids (four kids between the two families: a 6, 4.5, almost 4, and 2.5 year olds). I got about half way through dinner when O came into the kitchen complaining that his head hurt. I told him to sit down and I would look for the ibuprofen (just expecting that he needed some water and to be sitting and calm for a few minutes). Before I was even three feet from him he started throwing up and crying. Clearly this wasn't just a run of the mill child headache. I started to undress him and by the time I had gotten his shirt off he was throwing up more and it just kept coming. He was holding his head the whole time, and when my brain finally let me process everything that was happening, I realized that he had a migraine. The poor kid has the same thing happen to him that happens to me when I get migraines. Usually aura comes out of nowhere, then dizziness, extreme pressure all over my head and then vomit.
Clean clothes, an ice pack, and some cuddles and he was out. I'm not sure how he wants to be comfortable while his head feels like it's tearing itself apart from the inside, but I did everything for him that I would do for myself. Ice pack on the top of his head, head under a pillow (with a cave built in so fresh air can get to the lungs), and a blanket covering his entire body. He managed to say "thank you" after the blanket was covering him, but I don't even think he knows he said it. It was just habit.
Now to backtrack a little. After the first time O threw up, I asked my husband to go upstairs and get him a short sleeved shirt and pants/shorts because O was burning up. He came back with flannel pj pants, and a long sleeve shirt. Then while I was dealing with even more vomit he claims that I never said short sleeved, but to bring pants and a long shirt. In all honestly, I know what I said and I know every second that was happening will be ingrained in my brain forever (when you realize that your kid has the same shitty thing you have, you never forget the first time it happens), but to argue with someone whom you are not helping in any way besides getting the wrong clothes, is it really okay to place blame and start going to your inverted panic room in your head? I'm going with a big fat NO on that one.
My friend's husband offered to go to the store to get some children's ibuprofen when I realized that I had just used the last of what we had on my daughter earlier that day because she had a headache (my kids do not like the taste of ibuprofen. Not even a little bit, so for them to ask for it, I take it seriously). So J took his son (the 6 year old) with him to the store and my bestie took our girls upstairs to play while I was dealing with everything. My son climbed into D's lap and had some cuddle time while I cleaned up the vomit on the floor and cooled down. I do not handle being the only person trying to make things better for someone. I'm very supportive and can be the leader that gets shit done, but when it's all on me, I start to panic and catastrophic.
Once I cooled down and everything was cleaned up I tried to talk to D about what had happened and how it was upsetting that he just stood there while I was forced to handle everything. And while dealing with a kid who is throwing up and crying isn't a big deal, add in three other kids who are being loud and playing and wanting to see what is happening in the kitchen; it was just too much. Because D is so inverted, whenever I talk about what is bothering me or why I am upset, his only response is "yep", "cool", or "whatever". He might as well just stare at me blankly. No answer is better than sarcastic assholery.
So now I have a kid sleeping in my bed with an ice pack wrapped in a cloth diaper cover on his head.............................................................................................................and he's on my side. FTW.
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