It’s 5:15a.m. and Mikey and I have slept in tandem on the sofa’s again. I took him to the pediatrician yesterday, and was told that a virus has been going around like this in the past couple weeks. So, of course I am glad it’s not appendicitis, but I am reaching the end of my patience with no improvement. We are on the fourth day of a cough, stomach pain, occasional vomiting, noxious gas, and fear of pooping. I have been listening to him whimper and writhe in pain for two hours, now, and I don’t know what to do for him… It has been the worst night yet and no signs of improvement. Is there anything I can give him to alleviate the pain other than Tylenol? Something specific to intestinal pain?
I have postponed Pierce’s Birthday Party from tomorrow to next weekend, because even if Michael was better, I can’t pull it together. Right now, Mikey wants both of us to crawl into his bed and sleep—his twin bed. So, we do… Just as we are getting comfortable, I hear the screaming alarm clock in the crib. Dad came to everyone’s rescue and took Pierce into our bed with him. What’s wrong with that picture? A tot and his dad in a queen bed, and a zaftig mom with five-year-old in a twin bed? Anyway, we slept there until Daddy left for work at 7:15. I tried to doze longer, but I heard a little boy hollering for me. I thought it was Michael, but it was Pierce standing in the hallway looking into my bedroom and calling out to me. When I made my presence known, he toddled in with big grin and climbed up on the little bed with us. That couldn’t last long, as it was only a matter of time before he jumped on his brother’s stomach and found himself hurtling through the air into the wall. Sort of like the time Pierce bit my boob—I never breastfed him either. Maybe that’s why he did it, but he almost got thrown across the room by reflex to get the bitey monster off me!
Anyhoo, I snuck out when I could and made the necessary phone calls about Mikey’s continued absence. It wasn’t long before it was realized, though, that I wasn’t in bed, thus forth came the tears and calls for me. He’s now settled back in on the sofa, since he wouldn’t stay in his bed alone. I truly am concerned about the stomach pains especially since each day he gets a little worse and doesn’t seem to get any relief. Here’s the extent of the banter going on between us at this moment. (Mikey) “Owwwww, Mommy….Owwww! It hurts, mommy—it hurts so bad! Mommy? My eye itches.” (Me) “Well scratch it, baby.” (Mikey) “I can’t, Mommy because I have a stomach ache.” He’s had a least one hand in his pants for four days. I like to think he is holding his stomach, but it appears he is holding something else. Not quite sure why this is comforting when he has the flu, but whatever…. I guess he’ll be going blind next– and not from rubbing his itchy eye.