L is sick...again. DH put it best when he asked, while cleaning up vomit and diarrhea for the umpteenth time this week, "Who the hell did we piss off?!"
L caught, we thought, the stomach flu a week ago Thursday. That's right, folks. Ten wonderful days of blow-out diapers, vomit-covered bedding. She perked up mid-week and we thought the worst was over, but nope. She's still at it.
And it's not like she's the only one who caught it. K threw up for 4 hours. DH and I had the "howlin' skitters" for 4 days. (Gosh, I love that term. A dear friend Jen introduced me to THAT one.) But only L gets to have it go on and on and on....
Today we thought she was REALLY better. She was even playing this afternoon and evening. She was asking for food for supper, so we gave her some cheese and crackers and bananas, as she asked. Not long ago, she started crying in her sleep and then threw up in her mouth. I expect I'll be woken up mid-night tonight again with her cries, dreading opening the door, wondering what nastiness is behind door number 2.
I know how I feel. I feel hopeless, angry, frustrated, guilty, worried, anxious, exhausted, tired. And I'm just on THIS side of all this crap she's had to deal with. How she must feel! And to top it all off, she can't communicate enough to tell us how she IS feeling.
So what am I complaining about, eh?
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