It should be no surprise that my worst fears were realized. A stomach bug has set in at the Holder household and I was first notified of this at 3AM Friday morning. My wife brought the baby into the guest room where my daughter and I were sleeping soundly. The baby had been throwing up most of the night and now my wife had joined in. She had been just laying down towels over where the baby was sleeping after each vomit episode forming a sort of vomit sandwich there on my bed. She was handling this as well as can be expected until she started getting sick herself and turned the chore over to me at 3AM.
When it was time to get the 2yo and 3yo up for the day, I entered my daughter's room where they were sleeping and was treated to what looked like a frat house on Sunday morning after a big party. There had apparently been some sort of vomit explosion.
From this point at 7AM on Friday, I, so far unaffected by the bug, was running solo with four sick kids for the next 24 hours. My wife was in bed useless battling her own let's just say "internal demons." They seemed to be in pretty good spirits and were outwardly appearing to feel sick so I did was anyone in my position would probably do, I dressed them and took them to daycare.
This worked, of course, until they got sick at daycare and I had to pick them up. Now don't judge me too bad here. I happened to know that other children at the daycare, including the lady running it, all had this same bug so it wasn't like I was using my kids as little typhoid Mary's. Still, it's every man for himself out there and I've probably done a lot worse elsewhere. My conscious is clear.
It did give me a few hours reprieve to attempt to catch up on laundry. My washer and dryer probably think that they have been sold to a Chinese laundry because they have been running non-stop for 2 days now. I should thank my mother for putting the idea in my head that NOW would be a rotten time for one or both of these appliances to break down. That, by itself, is enough to move it into the near inevitable list of catastrophes to befall us.
Despite all these troubles. My daughter and I managed to feed all the kids, get their teeth brushed, and in bed asleep by 830PM. It was a miracle that I had trouble believing. We turned in early. We managed well until about 1:30am when my daughter woke me up and reported that her stomach hurt.
I suggested that go directly to the bathroom.
She vomited there on the floor.
At that point I realized that the red kool-aid I fixed for her as a reward for helping out was probably not my greatest idea.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Never, NEVER think that things couldn't get any worse
My strategy is generally to attempt to think of the worst possible outcome and prepare for that. This way I am never especially surprised or disappointed. I'll go on the record again and point out that things can always get worse. Recently, I've had to really dig down to find that "worst possible outcome." Terrorist explosion, floods, and nuclear Armageddon might have to be added to my list.
Last night we were nearing 24 hours with the children. The kids slept for 5 or 6 of those while I had a fitful night of, let's just call it, laying down. We actually managed 2, yes TWO, sit down meals for the kids. The kids really, Really ate well at supper (This will be important to remember later!) which included chicken fingers and mac & cheese. My daughter, 9yo, asked for blue cheese dressing to dip her chicken in. The 2yo and 3yo immediately chimed in that they wanted some as well (This will also be important to remember later!).
The baby, we realized thanks to the insight of a neighbor, was teething and having a terrible time. She brought us some teething equipment and some medicine for her. Fortunately, the constant crying subsided a bit.
With supper behind us, my wife decided that the kids needed a bath. Now, I would have been perfectly fine not rocking the boat any and putting that chore off for later. The kids weren't stinking or anything. My wife, however, has a thing about baths and was adamant about this. I couldn't really complain since she does 99% of the bath work anyway.
We have a garden tub off of the master bedroom which is pretty large. We started with the 2yo and 3yo in the bath at the same time. My daughter has left literally a toy box full of toys around the edges of the tub so there was plenty for them to do. Noticing that there was still plenty of room, I suggested that we throw the 1yo in as well so we could knock out all the baths at one time.
Mass confusion ensued. At one point, I can't be quite sure, I thought I noticed the 2yo drinking the bath water(This will be important to note later!). I alerted my daughter who was doing a good job watching them while my wife was busy getting the baby dried off and lubed up. My daughter informed me that the cup was empty and she wasn't drinking. In hindsight, I realize that it is more than possible that the cup wasn't full of water "that time."
Once the kids were out of baths, dried off, oiled up, dressed in pajamas and such, I stupidly thought that the "hard stuff" was behind us and we could settle down for the evening while the kids, freshly scrubbed, could drift off to sleep.
yep.
Just as I was about to sit down, chicken, mac and cheese, blue cheese, and dirty bath water were literally hurled out of the mouth of the 2yo onto our living room couch. My daughter, never one to endure things she considers *gross*, disappeared into her room and was not seen again for 2 full hours. I'll admit that I was more than a little jealous that she had that option open to her.
About 15 minutes later, after cleaning up the 2yo, dressing her in new clothes, and cleaning the couch, the same thing happened again. I suppose we were fortunate in that the volume of vomit was significantly less this time.
We decided to make a pallet on the floor in the bedroom where Tina was going to sleep with the baby. This was so Tina could hear if there were any problems. The 2yo went right to sleep, thank christ!
Next we tried to put the baby to sleep. Tina rocked her and got her asleep in her arms. We tried to lay her down but she woke up every time and started crying. Fearing that this would wake up the sleeping 2yo, I left the room with the baby and paced and bounced for a while. Eventually, appeared to go to sleep. I managed to lay her down without waking her.
Just as I was pulling my hands back from the sleeping baby, I heard the 2yo stir. What happened next I realize now was inevitable considering my luck. There was a feint cry followed by the unmistakable sound of what my daughter calls "barking." We have three cats so this sound is fairly common in our home. Our cats bark all over the place. After barking, the 2yo started crying. Before I could get to her, the baby woke up and joined in.
Tina got the 2yo cleaned up and replaced the bedding. I volunteered to rock the now screaming baby to sleep in the living room so Tina could go to bed. This took a considerable amount of time. Is there anything more grating to the nerves than a baby crying? After a good hour of it in my lap, I can honestly answer "I don't think so." The baby did eventually get to sleep and I did manage to get her in the bed without waking her.
Walking towards the bed I hoped to sleep in, my wife reported another barking incident. We changed the bedding and cleaned up the 2yo. She, by this time, had no trouble at all returning to sleep. I estimated that we had enough supplies for one more bark before I would have to get creative and start raiding other beds for bedding.
Sure enough, that final bark happened about 5 minutes after I laid down. Our laundry room is literally filled with vomit-stained comforters, blankets, and sheets. Yes, things can definitely get worse. It will be such a joy to wash and dry all that this evening where, for all I know, the same thing will happen again unless the Gods of Barking smile down and give me a break tonight.
What I'm secretely bracing myself for is the terrible certinty that it is a stomach bug that has now spread to the other 2 kids.
Last night we were nearing 24 hours with the children. The kids slept for 5 or 6 of those while I had a fitful night of, let's just call it, laying down. We actually managed 2, yes TWO, sit down meals for the kids. The kids really, Really ate well at supper (This will be important to remember later!) which included chicken fingers and mac & cheese. My daughter, 9yo, asked for blue cheese dressing to dip her chicken in. The 2yo and 3yo immediately chimed in that they wanted some as well (This will also be important to remember later!).
The baby, we realized thanks to the insight of a neighbor, was teething and having a terrible time. She brought us some teething equipment and some medicine for her. Fortunately, the constant crying subsided a bit.
With supper behind us, my wife decided that the kids needed a bath. Now, I would have been perfectly fine not rocking the boat any and putting that chore off for later. The kids weren't stinking or anything. My wife, however, has a thing about baths and was adamant about this. I couldn't really complain since she does 99% of the bath work anyway.
We have a garden tub off of the master bedroom which is pretty large. We started with the 2yo and 3yo in the bath at the same time. My daughter has left literally a toy box full of toys around the edges of the tub so there was plenty for them to do. Noticing that there was still plenty of room, I suggested that we throw the 1yo in as well so we could knock out all the baths at one time.
Mass confusion ensued. At one point, I can't be quite sure, I thought I noticed the 2yo drinking the bath water(This will be important to note later!). I alerted my daughter who was doing a good job watching them while my wife was busy getting the baby dried off and lubed up. My daughter informed me that the cup was empty and she wasn't drinking. In hindsight, I realize that it is more than possible that the cup wasn't full of water "that time."
Once the kids were out of baths, dried off, oiled up, dressed in pajamas and such, I stupidly thought that the "hard stuff" was behind us and we could settle down for the evening while the kids, freshly scrubbed, could drift off to sleep.
yep.
Just as I was about to sit down, chicken, mac and cheese, blue cheese, and dirty bath water were literally hurled out of the mouth of the 2yo onto our living room couch. My daughter, never one to endure things she considers *gross*, disappeared into her room and was not seen again for 2 full hours. I'll admit that I was more than a little jealous that she had that option open to her.
About 15 minutes later, after cleaning up the 2yo, dressing her in new clothes, and cleaning the couch, the same thing happened again. I suppose we were fortunate in that the volume of vomit was significantly less this time.
We decided to make a pallet on the floor in the bedroom where Tina was going to sleep with the baby. This was so Tina could hear if there were any problems. The 2yo went right to sleep, thank christ!
Next we tried to put the baby to sleep. Tina rocked her and got her asleep in her arms. We tried to lay her down but she woke up every time and started crying. Fearing that this would wake up the sleeping 2yo, I left the room with the baby and paced and bounced for a while. Eventually, appeared to go to sleep. I managed to lay her down without waking her.
Just as I was pulling my hands back from the sleeping baby, I heard the 2yo stir. What happened next I realize now was inevitable considering my luck. There was a feint cry followed by the unmistakable sound of what my daughter calls "barking." We have three cats so this sound is fairly common in our home. Our cats bark all over the place. After barking, the 2yo started crying. Before I could get to her, the baby woke up and joined in.
Tina got the 2yo cleaned up and replaced the bedding. I volunteered to rock the now screaming baby to sleep in the living room so Tina could go to bed. This took a considerable amount of time. Is there anything more grating to the nerves than a baby crying? After a good hour of it in my lap, I can honestly answer "I don't think so." The baby did eventually get to sleep and I did manage to get her in the bed without waking her.
Walking towards the bed I hoped to sleep in, my wife reported another barking incident. We changed the bedding and cleaned up the 2yo. She, by this time, had no trouble at all returning to sleep. I estimated that we had enough supplies for one more bark before I would have to get creative and start raiding other beds for bedding.
Sure enough, that final bark happened about 5 minutes after I laid down. Our laundry room is literally filled with vomit-stained comforters, blankets, and sheets. Yes, things can definitely get worse. It will be such a joy to wash and dry all that this evening where, for all I know, the same thing will happen again unless the Gods of Barking smile down and give me a break tonight.
What I'm secretely bracing myself for is the terrible certinty that it is a stomach bug that has now spread to the other 2 kids.
A new adventure has begun . . .
At least the title sounds better than "My wife and I have descended into madness." On Tuesday, we took in in three foster children. There are 2 girls and 1 boy and their ages are, get this, 1, 2 and 3! Yes, I know, our tether on reality is pulled taunt and rapidly fraying. Despite what the future holds due to this decision, I'll go ahead and get on the record now by saying that, at the time, it *seemed* like a good idea.
We got a call from DCS around 8:30pm and tentatively stated that it would be *OK* to be considered as a placement. An hour later we received another call from DCS confirming us as the placement they chose for these children. An hour later, a DCS worker was at our door with the children. We talked briefly, signed a lot of papers, and the DCS worker made her escape. Less than three hours after quickly deciding to accept the placement, we were alone with three children with nothing but the clothes on their backs and each one holding a toy.
The little boy, 3yo, was just fine. He is potty trained and didn't appear especially upset at the chaos his day had turned into. The middle girl, 2yo, loved our cats but cried for her mother a good bit. She is semi-potty trained and knows how to say "gotta pee pee." That isn't really all that helpful since she says this every 5 minutes or so but I can see the possibilities. The baby girl, 1yo, seems like a typical baby. I'm sure she was affected by the chaos of the day as well.
Once we got the kids to sleep around 1am, I was able to catch my breath and, like everything else I jump blindly headfirst into, realized how stupidly incompetent I was for the situation at hand. Just to add to the stress of the evening, it was terribly cold. We had been letting our 2 outside junkyard dogs sleep in the house. The kids were soundly sleeping on a pallet I made for them on the living room floor so letting the dogs stay in the living room was out.
I quickly thought of a solution and decided that we could create a makeshift corral that would lead from the back door to the garage door. I set up a heater in the garage for them. We set up bar stools and chairs and other objects along the way to create a path toward the garage and posted my wife and daughter at key locations to direct traffic. I felt like a cowboy. I opened the garage door and ran to the back door to let the dogs in with the intention of shooing them into the garage.
Typical of my ideas that *seemed* like a good idea at the time, things didn't go exactly as planned. Mutt #1 made an immediate left after coming in the door between the recliner and the couch and started barking at the sleeping kids on the floor. I quickly grabbed up the dog in my arms and found myself trapped behind the barricade that was supposed to keep the dogs moving in the right direction. I eventually managed to dump her in the garage and closed the door.
Mutt #2 followed the exact same path as Mutt #1 but, thankfully, no barking this time. Mutt #2 is too heavy to pick up so I had to scoot him by the butt into the garage. I'm lucky that he didn't step on one of the kids.
Amidst the confusion, two of our inside cats managed to get herded into the garage themselves. We didn't realize this until the next morning when we tried a repeat of the corral technique the night before. I opened the garage expecting the dogs to come running out (they hate the garage, by the way) but was surprised by 2 cats charging in like they were on fire. This time, of course, the dogs didn't want to leave the garage so I had to push and prod them like cattle to get them moving. The cats didn't like the garage at all but I figure it serves them right for not staying out of the way.
My wife, Tina, and I both stayed home from work on Wed. so we could get some needed supplies and secure daycare for all the kids.
I used a vacation day but, trust me, it was no vacation.
We got a call from DCS around 8:30pm and tentatively stated that it would be *OK* to be considered as a placement. An hour later we received another call from DCS confirming us as the placement they chose for these children. An hour later, a DCS worker was at our door with the children. We talked briefly, signed a lot of papers, and the DCS worker made her escape. Less than three hours after quickly deciding to accept the placement, we were alone with three children with nothing but the clothes on their backs and each one holding a toy.
The little boy, 3yo, was just fine. He is potty trained and didn't appear especially upset at the chaos his day had turned into. The middle girl, 2yo, loved our cats but cried for her mother a good bit. She is semi-potty trained and knows how to say "gotta pee pee." That isn't really all that helpful since she says this every 5 minutes or so but I can see the possibilities. The baby girl, 1yo, seems like a typical baby. I'm sure she was affected by the chaos of the day as well.
Once we got the kids to sleep around 1am, I was able to catch my breath and, like everything else I jump blindly headfirst into, realized how stupidly incompetent I was for the situation at hand. Just to add to the stress of the evening, it was terribly cold. We had been letting our 2 outside junkyard dogs sleep in the house. The kids were soundly sleeping on a pallet I made for them on the living room floor so letting the dogs stay in the living room was out.
I quickly thought of a solution and decided that we could create a makeshift corral that would lead from the back door to the garage door. I set up a heater in the garage for them. We set up bar stools and chairs and other objects along the way to create a path toward the garage and posted my wife and daughter at key locations to direct traffic. I felt like a cowboy. I opened the garage door and ran to the back door to let the dogs in with the intention of shooing them into the garage.
Typical of my ideas that *seemed* like a good idea at the time, things didn't go exactly as planned. Mutt #1 made an immediate left after coming in the door between the recliner and the couch and started barking at the sleeping kids on the floor. I quickly grabbed up the dog in my arms and found myself trapped behind the barricade that was supposed to keep the dogs moving in the right direction. I eventually managed to dump her in the garage and closed the door.
Mutt #2 followed the exact same path as Mutt #1 but, thankfully, no barking this time. Mutt #2 is too heavy to pick up so I had to scoot him by the butt into the garage. I'm lucky that he didn't step on one of the kids.
Amidst the confusion, two of our inside cats managed to get herded into the garage themselves. We didn't realize this until the next morning when we tried a repeat of the corral technique the night before. I opened the garage expecting the dogs to come running out (they hate the garage, by the way) but was surprised by 2 cats charging in like they were on fire. This time, of course, the dogs didn't want to leave the garage so I had to push and prod them like cattle to get them moving. The cats didn't like the garage at all but I figure it serves them right for not staying out of the way.
My wife, Tina, and I both stayed home from work on Wed. so we could get some needed supplies and secure daycare for all the kids.
I used a vacation day but, trust me, it was no vacation.
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