Swee'Pea Update...

Because Swee'Pea had gone a full seven hours without vomiting or pooping his brains out, we decided to brave it and take him to a get-together at Pizzaville for Popeye's co-workers and their families.

Twenty minutes into it, he vomited all over my lap, Popeye's lap, himself, the table, and the floor.  We dashed to the men's restroom where we attempted to clean up with the one measly burp rag we had brought.  Swee'Pea, in his typical Swee'Pea fashion, was unfazed by the whole debacle and was quite confused as to why we were stripping him down naked and running from the restaurant.

We left behind a full pitcher of Newcastle and any good impression we hoped to make on these people.

Seriously.  Baby barf is the worst.

Baby bodily fluids...

Warning: Completely disgusting post to follow.  Please do not read if you have a weak stomach.  Seriously, people.

Out of the blue, my child is sick.  I don't mean like an achey ear or fever... but like, sick sick.  Like, lying on the floor and not moving and laying in my lap for extended periods of time not making any noise sick.  Now, it is not unusual for him to be quiet... he is a pretty laid back fellow.  But the whole sitting in one position for an extended period of time and not getting up to go play with his cars or his books or his outside toys is a bit unusual.  

So last night, out of the blue, I walk into the living room to see this:

Um... yeah.  Totally gross.

Those of you who know Swee'Pea know that he spent the majority of his first year spitting up.  But this wasn't just spit up.  This was like, throw up.   Like, grown-up throw up.  And needless to say, I freaked out a bit.  I panicked.  What had he eaten?  How could I have not known he was sick??  What if he had been asleep when he threw up, choked, and died!?!?  

I rushed over to him, only to find that he was playing quietly with his toys, completely oblivious to the fact that he was covered from head to toe in good-'ol-fashioned puke.

So we washed up.  I brushed his teeth.  Put clean jammies on.  And tucked him into bed with me.

This morning he awoke, in a regular, happy, Swee'Pea kind of way.  He asked for water, so I gave him a sip.

Out it came.

Don't panic... I thought.  Maybe the water was just too cold for his sensitive tummy.

So he asked, and I gave him a cup of milk and went outside to do some gardening.  A few minutes later, Popeye and I came in to find a scene similar to that of the night before.

Puke, puke, and more puke.

Tubby again, and a new change of clothes.  This time, we make a pallet on the floor with quilts and pillows.  He asks... so I give him some water and half an Eggo waffle.

I'm not going to lie, I burst into tears 30 minutes later when the projectile vomit covered our blankets, our pillows, his entire body, and mine as well.

We showered... we shampooed... and we changed into yet another set of clothes.

By this time my washer and dryer have been going non-stop, and there are very few options left for blankets in the house.  I call my mom, who comes to the rescue with some crackers, Pedialite, a pile of towels, and a new book for Swee'Pea.

We snuggle into our new pallet, sip off of a cup of watered-down Pedialite, and enjoy a cracker or two.

Minutes later, the poop arrives.  Oh, the poop.  Down the leg, all over the hands... oh what a joy it was.

I run the tubby for a third time.  We change.  We brush our teeth.  And we settle down on a new set of blankets.

He snuggles up next to me.  I call Popeye and let him now I need a Dewar's Red and White when he comes home from work.  I think I deserve it, don't you??

After several hours and some cuddles on the floor, he finally passed out.  Poor little guy... I'm hoping this is just a random 24-hour (or less!!!) bug.  Because as much as mommy loves cuddling with her little man... my heart is breaking for this sweet little dude!