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Thursday, April 14, 2011

On why I am never living in an apartment without a washer and dryer again

Yesterday everyone was tired.  We (I) had packed up our things and driven from NC to DC with little or no naps.  Edwin went to bed at 5:30.  The girls went to bed at 6:30, and were asleep by seven.

After everyone was asleep, I settled down with a book and fell asleep myself, finally rolling off the couch around nine.  I got ready for bed, sent my nightly email to Brandon, wasted a few minutes online, and then climed into bed myself, ready to get my pregnant eight plus hours of necessary sleep.

And then Edwin started crying.  I initially ignored him, hoping he'd go back to sleep, but after a few minutes maternal guilt kicked in and I got up to check on him.  When I opened the door to the room, the smell hit me.  Vomit.  I don't like vomit; I don't think anyone does.  And I've never actually dealt with anyone's but my own, and that itself has only occurred twice since elementary school.  Thankfully each previous incident with the children had been taken care of someone other than myself, which was good because I was also pregnant each time.

No such luck this time.  I was alone.  My husband was four thousand miles away, my mother two hundred and fifty, my mother in law nine hundred.  And it was ten o'clock at night.  So, holding my breath, I stripped the sheets, changed Edwin's clothes, washed out his ear and hair, and said a silent prayer of gratitude that Edwin's other blanket was not in the crib when he vomited.

After calming him down, I dressed him in new pajamas, got out the only other crib sheet we have, and grabbed his blanket from the couch.  I put him down, and got myself ready for bed again.

And then he started crying, again.  More clothes went into the bathtub, awaiting morning light to be washed in the community laundry room.  Edwin went to bed on an extra twin sheet from the girls, Sophia's piggy pajamas, and Sophia's little blanket (thankfully, he will sleep with his sister's blanket).

This time I didn't bother turning off the light, and got out a book.  Half an hour later, he started crying, and I rushed to his room, and managed to get him to the sink before most of the vomit hit, saving the blanket, but not the pajamas.  This time we settled down to watch the last forty-five minutes of Ocean's 11 with a bowl on hand.  I had to save that last blanket, or all would be lost.

Edwin waited until George Clooney had tricked the mean casino owner to toddle around for three minutes before the now-familiar sound started.  I had the bowl ready, despite his objections, and caught only a small amount, what looked to be the last contents of his stomach.  So, off to bed in more of Sophia's pajamas.

Thinking of that one last blanket, I read until 12:30, and then went to sleep myself, praying that I could sleep until morning.  Which I did.  And then I took a filthy heap downstairs, to do the laundry.

6 comments:

Smallbits said...

Oh this and moving again. I am so sorry. I wish I was there to take a load down and do it for you and help you get settled in the new places too. Your new apartment should at least have laundry in the room right? I hope you get to return home to Cario soon. You are a tough mom.

Nomads By Nature said...

What a long night! I am hoping that whatever was bothering the little guy is done and over with and that you are all getting some sleep and rest in lovely clean sheets, pjs and blankets that were washed without any further hassles. So wishing I was there to help out with something.

Sarah Flib said...

And that's the kind of thing that makes you really, really, really glad you checked on your kid without letting them cry too long. Sometimes crying is what they need to settle down, but I'm often glad I didn't wait longer. Good luck with the moving and cleaning up and everything. I hope you and the girls stay as healthy as can be!

Anne said...

Man, that stinks (literally and figuratively). I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again just in case you forgot; if you ever need an extra hand (or two) call me! I'm right next door and I have a late bedtime. :)

PaulaJean said...

It sounds like an awful night. Vomit without a washer and dryer is a mother's nightmare.

Jill said...

Sorry, I hope tonight is better for you. This will end someday......
..hopefully soon.