'Til We're All Wearing Fancy Hats

If you haven't heard about the royal wedding between Prince William and the now Duchess of Cambridge, Kate, I don't know how to help you.  After my day, I know more about it than I'd expected I would, but it's not because I set my alarm clock for the middle of the night and drudged downstairs at 3 a.m. to witness it live.  The spark of youthful spontaneity and craziness still lingers in me, but my two children do not honor it by sleeping in the next day.  And as my now-in-its-30s body would be just this side of comatose come normal wake-up time, leaving my children uncared for, I decided to drop into bed at my usual hour and remain asleep when 3 a.m. rolled around.

Nevertheless, today proved highly eventful, making up for any lost 3 a.m. excitement, while at the same time patting me on the back for making the wise decision about not stirring from my happy slumber at 3 a.m.  Had I sabotaged my rest last night only to confront today, it might've turned out soooooo much differently.  I needed my wits about me.

For the past few days, Levi's been mentioning a tummy ache, which I've just been half-watching and half-dismissing.  He hardly ever gets sick, but yesterday when we were cutting out a pteranodon to hang from his ceiling, he suddenly grabbed his tummy and exclaimed, "Ow! Ow! Ow!" as he ran to the couch to curl up.  I grabbed my phone and dialed the pediatrician.  The doc said it looked like a basic bug and recommended the usual fluids and rest.  Adelaide, all the while, just played.  We walk to our doctor visits whenever we can, because they're so close, and after this one, Levi was feeling OK and it was sunny, so we took a bit of a longer route for some fresh air and exercise (that falls under "rest" ...sometimes).  I pushed Adelaide along, and Levi and I pointed out all the high water and rushing streams from the recent thunderstorms.  As we neared the "arrow buttons," as Levi calls the buttons you push at intersections to get the "Walk" signal, I noticed the dark clouds being blown our way from the blustery wind.  We picked up the pace to no avail and ended up rushing through the sudden rain to a random line of condo carports for shelter.  Levi, making the most of the situation, decided to perform a dance.  Sorry it's sideways, but I thought it worth sharing:

As for Levi's tummy ache, let me add the most unusual fact.  Levi has never thrown up.  So in my 4 1/2 years of parenting bliss, he has never given me that "Yakking Child" experience, and I in no way cherish resentment at life for not giving it to me.  I'll be just fine if we can successfully send him off to college and into adulthood totally vomit free.

So what was Adelaide up to all this time?  She was hanging out, taking things in, enjoying the walk and the rain, just doing what we do.  But underneath it all, she, my precious little princess, was working on giving me that "Yakking Child" experience.  I had failed to tell her that it was something I didn't need for mommy validation.  I know she would have kept it all to herself had I remembered that important Finley Household Rule.  Sweet child.  In all her going-with-the-flow ways, she somehow absorbed the same bug Levi has, but she expressed it much differently. 

She's been working on her first-year molars, so when she woke up fussy this morning, I thought nothing of it.  But the bitter, gagging tendrils of air that seized my nose when I opened her bedroom door told me a different story.  It reeked of bile.  Her crib was like a war zone of things splattered, things you don't want me to describe.  Somewhere under all the various chunks of yesterday's meals (oh yeah, sorry) and other stuff from the other end, I found my baby, sobbing.  Some of it was fresh, some of it was not, and I just looked at her miserable state and recognized the evidence of the "Yakking Child" experience.  Had I been up at 3 a.m. to watch the royals, I might've heard her in there puking away.  Again, good decision, mom.

Today was rainy all day and involved more of Levi's tummy aches, and a hundred nasty diaper changes and clothes changes for Adelaide.  Obviously, the diarrhea reflex is triggered by fresh clothing. It started after I got her out of her crib this morning and completely scrubbed her clean, getting her into a fresh diaper and clothes.  As soon as we got downstairs, I heard another diaper blow-out, one that managed to put both the pants and the shirt in quarantine.  We repeated this cycle a few times until we basically put a sign in our yard that read "Quarantine," fending off innocent passersby.  If I could've found Jed's extra tool belt, I would've been well served to just keep the room spray and hand sanitizer hanging on my person at all times. 

Neither kid ate anything worth mentioning all day, and Adelaide began dirtying her diapers less frequently this evening, and after a bath for them both, bedtime seemed like it would be peaceful and welcomed by all.  I marveled at the fact that I'd finally had the "Yakking Child" experience and had remained asleep at 3 a.m. like a brilliant sage.  I put beautiful-smelling nighttime lotion on Adelaide, who was a bit fussy with fatigue but otherwise relaxed from her bath.  Preventive baby powder, a fresh diaper, and cozy, clean clothes went on her, and I turned on her fan, turned off her light, and grabbed her warm bottle, settling into the glider.  Her formula was the one thing she was sort of taking, although in smaller doses, so when she immediately pushed it away and fussed, I was a little confused.  She started to writhe and squirm, so I sat her up.  She turned right to me and burped a cute, little burp.  I managed a smile just before her body lurched and she spewed a ferocious, powerful fount of vomit all over me, all over the chair behind me, all over the big, stuffed horse lying next to the chair.  When it stopped, I sat stunned for 1/100 of a second before she spewed another violent torrent all over me and broke down into tears. 

I just thought, "Yeah, OK, now you've had the 'Yakking Child' experience."  So I prayed over her and prophesied that that whole spew got all the yuckies out, went through Round 2 of our cozy night-night routine, with the addition of removing furnishings from her room and changing my own clothes, and skipping the bottle, before putting her down exhausted. 

What I've failed to mention thus far is that the rainy, sick day we've had has lended itself to movies for the kids and Royal Wedding coverage for me.  And that's how I know way more about it than I think I otherwise would have at this point.  History was made on both sides of the ocean for me today.  Big wedding for them.  Kid vomit for me.  And I've realized two important things. 

First, you're all right.  The "Yakking Child" experience is not pleasant.  I'm planning a Mama/Bubba date with Levi to formulate an immediate, workable plan we can execute together to keep him on the no-yak track.  (Even though I feel fairly certain that's all he needs to do to start feeling better...no matter.)

Second, I am determined to wear a fancy hat every day forever.
Like these:
 













NOT THIS, ha ha!:

So the cat wasn't really in this hat, but it
might as well have been!

They are awesome.  And also, I might become British.  I love America, but I know for a fact that British children do not yak on their parents.  They bring them tea and slippers.  Right?  And because I know I'm not the only one, I'm posting it here publicly, so that we all will stand together and bring the hat thing to this side of the pond.  I will not let this kid vomit business be for naught!  Who's with me?!