Apparently, Thomas was not immune either. He cheerfully emptied his stomach onto his bed and then gently chatted aimlessly with his father while I tried to get back to sleep.
It's been one of those weeks. You already know part of that. Three vomiting children, one after-hours doctor visit, one trip to the hospital for testing (to rule out appendicitis). On top of that, my husband was out of town (lucky man!) until late Saturday night, which means I was flying solo through the jungle of irritable illness.
I thought that Elijah was improving yesterday, but he couldn't sleep last night and now he is almost delirious with fever today. He is having a brief rest before getting passed off to his normal pediatrician and then likely the blood tests that we narrowly escaped on Sunday. I almost started crying when I left a message for the nurse. My nerves are just really worn thin. I didn't get to sleep (post-kneeling to the porcelain god, pardon my language) until 3 a.m. last night. Then we were awaken at 4:15 by the twins. That may be when Thomas vomited but I really have no idea. It's all a blur.
All in all, I slept maybe four hours last night, which is the crowning achievement to my weekend marathon of midnight emergencies. Other than being on the verge of tears, I'm doing okay. But do you know what will NOT be okay? What will NOT be okay is when I take Elijah in to the doctor in an hour and he suddenly perks up and acts like he's the healthiest child in the universe. It happens every time and I doubt today will be the exception. Not only is this an expensive way for my child to suddenly feel better, but it's also more-than-slightly embarrassing. "Hi, Doctor. He's really, really sick. See how he.. uhh... get back here, Elijah! You're supposed to be SICK!" If that happens, which it inevitably will, I think I will let myself finally cry. And possibly say a few swear words in my mind. And smile and act like I have my act together, of course.