On Monday morning I awoke around 4 AM thinking I had heard Connor. I heard another cry and thought, "Oh dear." I dragged myself out of bed to find a bomb of throw-up had exploded in Connor's room. Usually Byron doesn't hear Connor in the night and hence doesn't get up, but this time I needed back-up. The lights came on and a call for Dad was made and we were all up working on the mess. I felt so bad for Connor as he was clearly traumatized by the whole thing. He kept on telling us he had thrown-up fruit snacks. I thought, "Yep, and a whole lot else little buddy." Byron worked on the bedding while I worked on cleaning up Connor. I stayed up with Connor watching Finding Nemo to see if he would throw up again and to wait for the wash to finish so I could put it in the dryer. We had one more "experience" but then Connor went down fine again at 5 and slept till 10:00--good buddy! He was hungry and asking for food when he woke up so I started him off on a few plain Chex and about an ounce of apple juice. He was keeping the food down but the diarrhea started. Joy. So while I was on my hands and knees cleaning up poopy diapers and the poop I found on the floor, Connor seemed happy and doing much better. I let myself think, "Oh good, looks like we're getting past the worst of it." Why do I think things like that? I came back into the front room after having thrown in another load of dirty laundry when I saw "the look". I've seen "the look" too many times to mistake it for anything else so I picked up Connor, threw his last clean blankie to the side to save it from the oncoming on-slaught, and ran to the kitchen with Connor facing away from me. We were rounding the corner and had almost made it to the sink when it came...the throw-up. Big time. I proceeded to slip and fall in the fresh throw-up but somehow managed to keep Connor off the floor and safe. In the process though I hit my knee and elbow really hard on the floor (I have a nice blue bump to show for it) and I hit a fold up table we have (it was folded up leaning against the cabinets) and it fell on my foot, ouch. By the time I got us off the floor the throw-up episode had passed and we were both covered in it. As a true mother, I didn't feel the throw-up or shots of pain until after Connor was clean and comforted. Then I sat down and just had to laugh. Wow, talk about the low point of the day. I was so exhausted that I let the throw-up dry on me while I cleaned up the kitchen and Connor, and then fell fast asleep in my non-made bed when Connor went down for a nap. When I woke up and realized the grotesque state I was in, I hopped in the shower and then washed ALL of our bedding. Ahhh, it felt good to be clean again. I told my friend that story and she said I had earned some "Mommy Stripes" that day. We really are willing to sacrifice anything for our kids. I really do love being Connor's Mom.
Connor experienced some "firsts" this weekend. He peed in the "big boy" toilet for the first time on Friday night. Wow. He was totally totally THRILLED with himself and kept on wanting to do it "one more time" which he then would. We clapped and oohed and ahhhed and had a celebration. :) This all started sometime last week when I noticed he was making himself start and stop peeing in the tub. He was quit fascinated by the whole thing and it was totally grossing me out that he was peeing in the bathtub. I had tried him on the toilet after that bath but he had nothing left to give. It was Byron that came up with the idea to try before bath time and we had immediate success! Do I dare dream of a diaper less life? We'll see where all this leads.
Connor's last "first" of the weekend was his first "time out". What led to the timeout was so hilarious I could hardly contain myself from laughing and kissing him all over, but I persevered. Connor was having a great time playing with Playdoh in the kitchen. He ventured to the front room with it a few times and he was told as he'd been told many times before the Playdoh is only for the kitchen. Usually he runs back into the kitchen and carries on with his business. Not yesterday. He took the hot pink Playdoh and while keeping a steady gaze on me, his mother, he crumpled all the Playdoh into the floor. He ran away and hid while I said, "No, no" in my best mommy voice and asked him to come pick it up. After some coaxing I thought I'd got through to him when he came and picked up a piece. No sooner had a said, "Thank you, good job buddy!" for helping clean up, when the little stinker went the the other side of the room and crumpled the Playdoh up there with that same steady gaze. So, onto a kitchen chair he went for two minutes. I sat across from him to keep him there and was amazed at how he tried to get down but it was as if his bottom was glued to the chair. He was crying and asking for his blankie, something to eat, something to drink, a band aid because he had an invisible "boo boo" that had appeared. He learned you don't get anything like that in "time out". As he cried I told him "time out" is no fun and that it wasn't fun for Mom or Dad either. The timer went off, he looked at me expectantly, we took him off the chair all hugged and kissed and proclaimed out love for one another, dried tears and were happy again. We'll see when our next need for "time out" arises.
Well, my bracket's shot. I have UNC and UCLA playing in the final game with UNC winning and after last night we all know that's not going to happen. I talked to my parents tonight and gave them my in-depth analysis of where I thought things went wrong and my Dad said I could be an ESPN analysis, but I'm too tired and depressed to recount it here so if anyone wants to know, just call me and I'll break it down for you. :) Man, I was all ready to walk around in UNC paraphernalia for the next few months in celebration of our National Championship. We'll see what next year brings. But things march on and I'm excited about the game tomorrow night. Will it be Memphis or Kansas? What do you think?