Weekend Bust

We were driving to dinner on Wednesday with a quick detour to Inside-Out Sports so I could verify I did in fact get the right size running shoes when Logan started saying “Boo-boo. Boo-boo.” I wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying at the time and asked him, “Logan, did you  poo-poo?” which he indignantly replied, “No poo-poo!”  Upon parking at the store he vomited all over himself and the car seat. We then determined that he may have been telling us his belly had a boo-boo. Marty took over the cleaning part while I ran in to try on some other shoes.  When I returned, Logan had been stripped down to his diaper and Marty was handling all the barf covered clothes with only a mild look of disdain.  Fast forward a bit: more vomit, diarrhea, and lots of movies later, Logan seemed to be back to normal pretty quickly when it was all said and done. Although he didn’t have much of an appetite for several days (the kid honestly doesn’t have the biggest appetite to begin with).

Marty and I thought we had dodged a bullet and congratulated ourselves with how we handled it all.  Pat on the back here, hose it all off there, never gonna get rid of the pukey stink in the car seat, though! Febreze for the rest of our life.

We even jokey-joked with a fellow parent at the park on Friday evening about the incident and how surely we would’ve gotten it by now if we were going to get it.  Right? Right? (oh you all know the answer to THAT question!)

Poor Marty was scheduled to run a marathon Saturday morning near Richmond, and unbeknownst to me was battling his own stomach demons before he left the house prior to 5am.  It was around this time I woke up and thought, “something ain’t right.” 

Several hours of hell ensued. You all can infer whatever you want here and it would probably be correct.

I sent out an all-points bulletin to friends and babysitters because I was not in a place to be taking care of a child at this point. Unfortunately, no help was available so Logan watched copious amounts of tv and was fed whatever was within reach.  I could barely get off the couch to make it to the bathroom.  Marty raced home after his DNF and seemed to have a lesser version of the sickness than I had (although when push comes to shove he may think that I just don’t deal with it as well – I call bs and he’d better watch his mouth next time! I am a delicate flower).  But thank goodness that his immune system is stronger or his stomach is like steel (this is my theory) because he was able to get Logan out of the house to burn some energy off while I continued to lay on the couch and not move.

The next morning I felt better. I was able to eat a tiny bit of oatmeal without any adverse side effects and was ready to get out of the house so we all went to cheer on the runners at the Tobacco Road full and half marathons, where I joked that we were only able to cheer for half of the participants since the other half were all wearing headphones.  Remember when these used to be banned in races?

I was still feeling pretty weak throughout the day and my appetite was mostly non-existent. We visited our local brewery and after 2 sips of beer and a few nachos I realized I had made a mistake. Nothing entered my stomach after that.  Nothing left my stomach immediately either, so at least there was that.

Kids stomach bugs – the gift that keeps on giving.