What a day I've had.
I woke up at 5:15 am to the sounds of my two year old son Maxwell violently dry heaving. I grabbed tissue and he spit up into that. It was dark brown and had that hideous vomit stench. It hurt him so bad. He looked scared. Poor guy. He didn't know what was going on.
Then, when he was all done vomiting, I picked him up and held him. He was burning up, the poor guy.
This was my day. My wife's new job has her leaving the home at around 4:30 am and so I was all alone taking care of a sick little baby.
I gave him some medicine and managed to rock him back to sleep. The only problem was that it was The Rock VS John Cena getting him to take the damn medicine. He hates it. He thinks its so disgusting that he just spits it like crazy, erupting sticky medicine all over me.
It feels strange saying "Maxwell is sick" because he is almost NEVER sick! That's probably because he's a breast fed baby. That means his immunity is off the charts. He has NEVER realky been sick before. I was almost scared but thankfully my mamma bird instinct was too strong. I want to protect him. I HAD TO protect him.
Eventually both girls woke up. Maxwell was still asleep so I instituted a Wall of Silence to keep my little Sickswell Maxwell asleep in the blue chair, his chair of choice, in the living room. No sounds or noise. Nothing. Wall of Silence.
He woke back up at 7:15 with a fever still, I think it went down a bit, and a really bad random nosebleed. Great, right? Now it's vomit AND blood!
I wiped off the blood, stopped the bleeding and all that, and put on cartoons for him. He seemed out of it, tho, and by about 7:40 am he just said fuckit, got in my arms, and knocked right out to sleep again. Thankfully his fever was going down a bit by then but he was still absolutely miserable.
Woke up at 8 am hardcore vomiting yet again. I tried to give him more medicine but he was just erupting it again, spitting out a bunch of it straight into my face. Great. So I was covered in vomit and blood and sticky ass medicines. Gross, right?
By about 8:30 Maxwell started feeling a little bit better. He was smiling and walking around and playing. Still, I was worried. He is NEVER like this! So, last ditch effort, I decided to defrost a bad of breast milk and make him a bottle. Poor baby.
And wouldn't you know it ... once he drinks the bottle?
An hour after the bottle he was running around the house yelling and jumping and screaming, saying BETTER! I wanted to cry, I was so happy.
I was also jealous. I wanted to make him feel better. Me!
Even when she's not here my wife makes everything better.
Now it's around 2:30 in the afternoon. No more vomiting but his fever is coming back a bit. I have to give him medicine but I know that about 60% of it will end up on my face. Not only that but i'm starting to not feel good. My stomach is breakdancing and I'm feeling dizzy as hell.
Gawd I hate today.
Today should be drone striked.