Monday, 8 January 2007

A tale of two barfs (or twenty, or so)

Istra, suddenly, without warning, erupted today. Selena had her out at the time. Early afternoon. I hear the scene was awesome. Chunky vomit everywhere: carpet, couch, Selena. I met her at the subway station. Istra was completely conked out, looking pale and dead in the stroller. Head fallen back. Selena assured me she was alive.

Long afternoon of Istra sleeping, waking periodically, weakly, to erupt again. Both ends sometimes. But still, no crying she makes.

Towards evening. Selena is saying she's not feeling well either. She goes to lie down. With Istra. I'm sitting out on the couch with my laptop... thinking about getting some work done that I was supposed to have done. Istra comes wandering out by herself. She looks a bit dazed.

She's looking a lot better though. Standing. She wants to be picked up. She asks (via sign language) for a drink. She drinks a lot of water. Quite a bit. She won't let me put her down. I sit her on the couch with me. I'd earlier got a call from Tony. There's a mix up (let's say) with the security certificate the Employer Summit web site uses for registration. This is a big deal, because the conference is coming up soon: people need to register. I'm supposed to be doing whatever I can to sort out the problem before Monday. With Selena passed out in the bedroom. The sick baby just coming around, and wanting attention.

Istra seems in fairly decent spirits, all things considered. But she wants to be carried. She wants to be held. I carry her around for a bit. She slumps against me, her head on my shoulder. She must be exhausted. I don't want to take her back to the bedroom, because Selena also is not feeling well either.

With her draped over my chest, I manage to lower myself to the couch, by my laptop. I manage to to get my arms around to the keyboard. Istra seems content. Or at least resigned. I am able to peck away at the web server moving things in the way they need to go.

I hear Selena. Oh good, she's getting up. She's in the bathroom. Oh no. Sounds like she's doing what Istra had been doing all afternoon. There's running water. Brushing teeth. Ah well, I keep working.

Istra suddenly starts vomiting all over me, like a torrent. There's no where for me to go. And besides, actually, as I look down, it's the cleanest vomit she's had so far. Cleanest in every way. As far as I'm concerned, at this point, it's all good. All afternoon she'd been waking up and rolling over and puking up all over the towel we'd put down (and had to change frequently... and such disturbing colours at first... blueberries for breakfast), her face practically in it (sometimes more than practically); needing her face washed, her arms, her hands, her shoulder, her chest, her diaper changed, towel changed, miscellaneous spots dealt with. Here, her head is nestled into my neck, the vomit is missing her completely, and simply running down the front of my shirt. The couch is fine. Istra is clear. I can take it. She vomits again. And again. Four times. Mostly the water at this point. But she couldn't have drunk that much water, could she?! I am completely drenched. It's very warm. Luckily my shirt is, apparently, super absorbant! It just keeps soaking in. The couch is okay. Istra needs no clean up for once. And Selena's done throwing up in the bathroom. She's brushed her teeth. I just have a few more commands to go! I hold Istra, and keep typing. She's okay. Just avoid the wet part for a minute, Istra. Good girl.

Finally, I get up and get my shirt off (whilst Istra still clings). We head to the bedroom. Hi mommy, how are you doing? Oh.

I'm waiting for a call back from Tony to confirm that i should take the last few steps and make the changes to the web site that I'd proposed and prepared. Selena is tired, and wants to lie down. Istra is signing for food now. Okay, lets try food, and let mummy lie down. Maybe a bit of dry cereal to munch. Snack. Yum.

I bundle Istra up in a blanket. Get her settled into the corner of the couch with her bit of cereal and some water. Not sure if she'll keep it down, but she might as well try if she wants to. Again, she seems in good spirits, despite it all. The phone rings. In the office. Istra, wait there, I'll be right back! I run back and forth between the office and couch. It's Tony. He wants me to go ahead as soon as possible. Okay, okay. Istra is being good. Just a few more commands...

It was all read to go... just a few more commands. I hear Istra again throwing up beside me. It's okay, very precise: hit the blanket. Outside of her wrapped part. Cereal, chunks of apple. Cohesive. Just a few more commands!! Hold on, Istra. Don't move. You're okay.

Okay, okay. Okay. Done. But can't take the time to email Tony to tell him it's done. To test. He'll have to wait. Tests will have to wait.

I get Istra out of the blanket. No wait... my camera! I just happen to have it with me, because Istra looked kind of cute and pathetic wrapped in her blanket eating bits of cereal for dinner. I'd taken a few pictures. Might as well immortalise this latest development! This whole evening. Half of this day! Wheee. Istra in arms, I snap a few. Evidence!

Selena takes Istra off my hands in the bedroom. I head back to clean up whatever needs cleaning up out here. It really wasn't too, too bad. It really was just one part of the blanket. Good. I sponge it out in the kitchen sink as best as possible and hang it over the stroller to dry. We are running out of towels and blankets! There's a big garbage bag full of vomit covered clothes, blankets, and towels already in the hallway.

Istra and Mamma are in bed for the night. I'm sitting out here, again in the living room, covered in a blanket. It's turned a bit chilly. I avoid the wet part. I emailed Tony: just the one line letting him know the change was made... oh, and another line. "Interesting night... tell you later."

I have a meeting in the morning; and there's still that work I had been supposed to be doing this afternoon before all of this (so to speak) came up...

But you know... that's life sometimes. Fun!

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