Puke City

This week has been one of those shall we say "trying weeks".  Out of the blue, Caleb threw up a bottle.  I don't mean he threw it up, I mean it was like a cannon coming out of his mouth.  He had no other symptoms, wasn't acting bad, wasn't overly cranky but just could not keep his bottle down.  I was instructed to give him Pedialyte every 10 minutes for 4 hours.  If he kept that down, then increase the dosage until I got to 8 hours.  If he kept that down, then go back to the bottle.  Well . . . we always made it to the 8 hour mark and as soon as I gave him a bottle, right back out it would come.  That baby only had 3 bottles in 3 days and he threw those up.

So as if Mommy wasn't a walking zombie already, Wednesday Kanin throws up.  Same thing--no other symptoms.  Then, at midnight that night, Gracie throws up.  Gracie continued to throw up every hour for about 6 hours.  All over her bed, pillows, floor, herself, etc. etc.  I am talking puke city around my house.

In the midst of all of the puking, I remember having the distinct thought that it didn't even really bother me (that much) that Caleb had thrown up on me and that it was running down my leg.  I always heard people say things like "When it's your own child those things don't really gross you out" and surprisingly, it didn't.  I was more concerned with why they were all sick and what I could do to make sure they stay dehydrated than by the fact that I had baby slobber, goo, formula and just plain 'ole chunks running down my leg.

Crazy how motherhood can change you.