One Sick Kid.

Is it a rite of passage to get puked on? Does it just come with the territory? Do all toddlers freak out and throw their heads back and nearly aspirate, or is that just my kid?

We had a rough weekend. Britt had been sick earlier in the week, and Penny must have caught whatever bowel-bomb he had. Thursday night, Penny had a hard time sleeping, and cried out several times. I went in her room to ask her what was wrong, but she calmed down each time. So by the 5th time, I asked Britt to take a turn. And that's when she threw up. All down Britt's back, all over the floor, all over the changing table, everywhere. And she screamed.

I guess you have to learn how to puke properly, which is something I had never considered, even after our ill-fated return from Vegas. Penny was so upset about throwing up and the mess, that she wouldn't bend over. She was completely stiff, upright, screaming. Finally, we got her to relax and kneel, so we could keep her head down. It was awful. I have never seen her that sick before. I felt myself struggling internally with so many feelings at once: shock and panic while trying to comfort and calm, standing in toddler puke. I held her and told her it was ok, to just let it all out. I tried to explain it all had to come out of her tummy and then she would feel better. But deep down I wanted to cry.


Dr. Penny checks the temperature of one hot potato,

Getting sick makes me cry. Seeing Penny in that much distress made me want to cry. But I knew I had to keep it together, to show her it was ok, that it wasn't scary or gross, or bad. I tried to think of what my parents used to do for me, whenever I was sick. They spoke gently, held me, and cleaned up after me. Eventually, Penny passed out in my arms, exhausted. She woke up a couple of hours later, and was markedly better. That was Friday. By Saturday, she was eating and running through the sprinklers, as good as new.


And administers medication as needed.

Then Sunday morning, she started throwing up again. This time, she couldn't even keep water down. Britt and I exchanged nervous glances and I got out the BOOK to read up on "when to call the doctor." We decided to try ice chips, to slow down her system and get her hydrated, and that worked. By then, she had curled up on the floor next to her potty chair (which we were using as a receptacle) and fell asleep, after saying, to herself, "I sorry, Penny." A couple of hours later, she was able to eat some jello. Then she slept some more, on a makeshift bed on the floor.

And now she's fine, as she can tell you herself:


I don't know what that was about, but I hope it doesn't happen again for a long time. And when it does happen again, as it surely will, I'll remember what to do: Remain calm, rally, clean it up. Everything will be ok. And maybe by next time, Penny's aim will have improved.