Monday, May 24, 2010

an apology from Donovan

Saturday was a nightmare. I would be rounding down to say that Donovan threw up 20 times between 6:30 am and 9:30 pm (he stopped saying "excuse me" after about the 12th time). I suspect it only stopped because I told him we'd have to go to the hospital for an IV if he couldn't stop. He wanted to know what an IV was. I'm only a little ashamed that I described it in excessive detail. "Does it hurt?" he wanted to know. Yep. I know I shouldn't use scare tactics. But the results don't lie: he didn't throw up again after that.

Gemma only hurled three times. I am extremely grateful for a friend who dropped bags of white bread, gatorade, pedialyte, bananas and jell-o on our doorstep at 10 pm that night. In the hopes that they would eat/drink something on Sunday, I had asked her if she could pick up those things for me. "And some movies," I added. "We've exhausted all of ours." As I plucked the contents from the bags and lined them up on the counter, I felt like I was looking at Thanksgiving dinner. I felt my lips purse with anticipated determination for the morning. I was going to get these kids better, dang it.

Sunday morning started a little before 6am with Gemma crying and Donovan staggering out of his room. Both registered fevers over 102. As I offered Gemma her first sips of pedialyte, her little hands were shaking to take the cup, and then turned into the frantic tapping for the sign "more." Slow and steady, baby. After an hour of a few sips here and there, Donovan headed to the bathroom, begging me to come with him. I left Gemma on the couch, watching "Kung Fu Panda," but it wasn't long before I could hear the pitter patter of her feet. I went to pick her up and observed that she must have been dizzy from the fever/dehydration because she was lurching from side to side as if she had just been spun around the room.

The only time Donovan left the couch on Sunday was to take a nap or the couple of trips to the bathroom that let me know the little liquid he was taking in was making its way through his system. Gemma became plastered to me. We made our way through several movies that morning and I dozed on the couch with one more children draped across me.

Oh, it was also right about this time that Ainsleigh decided her stomach was hurting. Call it sympathy pains or whatever, but I told her I had already helped her through this so she was on her own.

Mid-afternoon, with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes still fixed on the television ("Madagascar 2," anyone?) I heard Donovan say, "Mom? I feel like I need to say something to you." Ok, I said, hoping that he was ready for food or wanted some more gatorade. He tore his gaze from the screen and blinked hard. With a voice tottering on the edge of tears he said, "I'm sorry I said I didn't like your hair when you first came home. I like it." He looked like he wanted to say more but I just chuckled and patted his head. "It's ok, dude. Sometimes it takes some getting used to." What amused me was that I haven't said anything about it since the gummy bear incident.

He snuggled in a little closer and whispered he loved me. Turns out, my ability to care for my children and watch an unlimited number of movies isn't dictated by my hairstyle. Which is a good thing since I didn't even get the chance to wash my hair all weekend.

From better days...

...may we return to that soon.


The Johnson Family of Colorado said...

You poor thing. You were missed on Sunday, but I can see that you were REALLY busy being a mom. I am looking forward to seeing what we refer to as Sarah's new sassy haircut. :) Hope all the kids are feeling WAY better today.

Alice said...

Hope you survived. Joel picked a good weekend to go out of town eh?