Whiny

I'm worn out.

On Wednesday, it started snowing again. I worked from home, since the roads in ourt neighborhood are the first to ice up, and I didn't trust that I'd be able to get home if I waited until the weather turned at work. It turns out it was a good idea, since the daycare closed early, and Matt was stuck in traffic on the east side for hours. I picked Adam up shortly after the snow started, and my usual ten-minute trip home took an hour. If I'd had to make that trek from work, I don't think I would have even gotten there by the normal closing time.

On Thursday we all stayed home. Our house is in the middle of a hill in every direction (like most of Seattle), and even had the office and daycare been open, I don't think we could have gotten there. The city has de-iced the main roads, but we're too far off the beaten path for that: can't get up the hill in one direction, and can't get traction going down it.

Thursday evening, while I was curled up on the sofa with my knitting, nursing a headache, I heard an unfortunate splatting sound. I looked up just in time to see all the contents of Adam's stomach hit the cupboard. Several times. This continued through the night, but I'll spare you the details.

The next day, I woke up with the bug, and Matt took over pushing fluids on Adam and cleaning them up when he gave them back. I don't really know what happened for most of that day.

On Saturday morning, I woke up with Adam, gave him some water, and settled him in to our bed. When he seemed asleep, I went in to take a shower, only to hear him yelling when I was midway through conditioning my hair. I finished up as quickly as I could and came back to the bedroom, dripping all over the carpet. Rather than finding a little boy upset because he'd woken up alone, I found a little boy upset because he'd just vomited. Again. All over our bed.

Matt poked his head in to say that I was on deck for this one, since he'd come down with the bug overnight.

I stripped the bed, but couldn't remake it, since Adam wouldn't let me put him down. I tried giving him a few tiny sips of water, and when they came back up as well, I called his doctor, who wanted me to bring him in.

I may not have been thinking too clearly at this point - my brain was sort of stuck in a third day/no fluids/dehydration loop. I got Adam as clean as I could manage, and settled him in the car. I started the car. I scraped the windows. My door wouldn't close (this happens when it gets too cold; the door won't close until the car has warmed up, so you get to drive for fifteen minutes with the dinging "door open" sound).

I finally got moving and got partway up the hill when my car completely lost traction, and I coasted back down. Somehow I made it back around the corner; I'm still not entirely sure how I managed that. Back on our flat street (it runs for two whole blocks! The most level area in Seattle, I'm sure of it!) I tried to figure out what to do. Can't go up? Better go down, then.

Just one block down is a main-ish street through our neighborhood, that goes straight and fairly flat to a proper main street. I have three choices of hills to get down to it. Feeling skittish about the first one, since I'd just slid on it going the other way, and not together enough to turn down the second, I took the third.

Bad idea.

Somewhere along the way, my tires stopped responding. I slid down and to the right, unable to brake, and wound up halfway into someone's front yard.

At that point, I started crying.

Really, what else could I have done? Sick baby in the back of the car, still feverish myself, perilously close to a drainage ditch, and no idea how to get back onto the road, nor whether I could stay on it once I did. It was that or scream "I grew up in the Pacific Northwest ferfucksake! I don't know how to drive in this shit because it never fucking happens here!"

Had the mailman not come by, I'd proabably still be there.

Three cheers for the postal workers; they're not all gun-toting psychos. This one was wonderful. Sadly, he's not our usual guy, so I may never see him again to thank him, but he helped push my car back a few inches, then talked me through going forward and back onto the road. He told me which roads were clear (everything beyond the one I was on), and which was the best way to go. If I knew who he was, I'd bake him cookies.

We made it to the doctor's office without further incident, although it did start to snow partway there. After a quick check, the doctor prescribed anti-nausea suppositories (I sincerely hope this will be the last post in which I discuss suppositories), and said that the Norwalk Virus had been making it's way through Seattle's children. Yes, why pay thousands of dollars when you can have the authentic cruise experience in the privacy of your own home?

On to the pharmacy, then, to fill the prescription, and watch the snock come down harder. But wait, this pharmacy doesn't stock the pediatric version, only the adult version. Same dosage, larger diameter. Did I want that? I could cut it in half.

Fine. Whatever. Just give me something that will let him keep fluids down, and let me go home before I'm stuck in Fred Meyer until Ragnorok.

More waiting. Calls to the doctor. Consultation with other pharmacists. Eventually, an adult prescription, and back home through the snow. I took the second hill back up to our street and got home just fine.

Then there was Operation: Get Fluids into Adam, closely followed by Operation: Fine, Give Him Some Crackers if it Will Make Him Happy. Matt and I still felt horrible, but Adam was definitely perky. After all that nap time in the car, he was ready to party well into the night. Finally, at 8:30, we turned out all the lights and tried to be as boring as possible. An hour later (kid's got eyes like a cat!), he finally fell asleep, and Matt and I collapsed into bed.

I had to get up shortly to take a Tylenol, since everything hurt too much to even lie still, which set my stomach back some. I slept. Adam woke up. I tried to get him back to sleep. He saw Matt, and screamed for Daddy. I went back to bed and put in earplugs. Matt and Adam stayed up for three hours, and after another whole hour in bed, I got to get up with him at 8:00. I think it's safe to say his sleep schedule is shot.

This morning, he refused to eat any approved foods, and wanted milk. He made gagging noises when shown crackers. He repeatedly asked for, then rejected banana. He continues to scream for Matt and not give a shit whether I'm around.

I'm gonna go hide in a corner and cry now, 'kay?

Edited to add: Ad we're still snowed in, with no sign of the sub-freezing temperatures leaving any time soon. Every time I check the weather, they've added another day before it thaws.