When all you want is a shower

The weather finally took a turn for the better this weekend. Just in time for other things to take a turn for the worse. Maybe not worse…but gross.

As Spring is finally in full bloom, my husband’s schedule has picked up as well, meaning I’m on one-on-one defense with our son on Saturdays. It’s cool, NBD. I’ve gotten used to it at this point. But being only a few weeks away from popping out a baby has thrown an exhausting wrench into this situation.

It’s amazing the sixth sense you gain once you become a mom. You really know your kid. My son doesn’t need to speak for me to read his emotions or understand how he is feeling.

Enter, last Friday.

I knew something was up with my little guy when I picked him up from daycare Friday afternoon. He seemed a little reserved and snuggly. We went out to dinner and he didn’t touch his food. Hmmm, my mommy senses were tingling.

Fast forward six hours and he came trotting to our bed at about 2:00 in the morning. Almost immediately he starts hacking. I jumped out of bed at pregnant-lady lightning speed and flipped on the lamp just in time to see him spew all over my Snoogle pillow. His response, “I puked.”

I hauled away my giant soiled slice of Heaven pillow and tried not to gag as I cleaned up the mess in the tub. What a great time to have a heightened sense of smell. Came back to bed and was out before I knew it.

About 7 hours later, I was sitting on the couch with my son watching Jumanji for the millionth time (the new one with The Rock, which is fabulous BTW). I was trying to calculate the last time I had a shower. Too long, apparently.

The next thing I knew, I was enjoying a warm shower with suds in my hair when I heard the pitter-patter of my son’s feet coming down the hall. I peek out behind the curtain to see him enter the door frame with a distressed look on his face. “I went potty.”

That’s when I notice he is standing like he just hopped off a horse after a long ride and he is looking at his hands outstretched in horror.

I knew immediately that whatever stomach bug had hit him earlier had traveled south of the border.

At this point he had started whimpering and I was rushing to rinse all the soap out of my hair, reassuring him that it was going to be okay.

I will save you the stomach-churning details, but I’ve never seen diarrhea like that before. And it was everywhere. I hopped out of the shower just to plop him in.

This continued through Monday. Complete with hives that popped up on his arms and legs Sunday night, and persisted into Monday morning. He’s a hive guy. He gets hives about 80% of the time when he gets a virus.

Nonetheless, he was in a great mood and kept up a healthy appetite. So a leaky butt didn’t slow him down too much this weekend.