Last Tuesday is one for the books. I had a long day at work, but I won’t bore you with the details. Upon returning home, I discovered that somebody had installed a lake in my backyard. Some could argue that it was due to the massive amounts of rain that we received that day, but I like my idea better. Sarah told me that Tyler wasn’t eating very well that day, and that he developed a cough. The awesomeness of this particular day kept getting better and better, wouldn’t you agree? Later on in the evening, Sarah informed me that water was dripping into our upstairs bedroom. Fantastic.

But I’m leaving out a key element here.

After Tyler had his dinner (peas, sweet potatoes, and rice cereal) we put him on the floor to crawl around while Sarah and I had our dinner. Sarah made a cheesy tuna noodle casserole, and it was delish.

From the floor, Tyler started making noises.

”NNnnnnnnnnt. NNNNNNNNNnnnnnnt. Uhhhhhnnnnnnnt.”

They were more of a grunting noise, and it’s a sound we’re very familiar with.

”Is Tyler pooping? Yes, Tyler is pooping.” I try to bring yes and no into most of my conversations with Tyler, so that he may begin to understand what those words mean. I also, desperately, want him to know what the word “poop” means because I want him to be able to eventually tell me when he needs to perform such a task. I don’t know when potty training is supposed to start, but the sooner he learns what he’s doing (and how disgusting it is), the better.

Sarah, being a stay at home mom, deals with poopy diapers much more often than I do. As such, I take her advice on the subject (among other things, her credentials include being pooped on). She said that I should give him a couple minutes, to be sure he was “done”. So I finished dinner. Tyler started doing the “I’m tired” routine very shortly after that. You know the drill. Whining, eye rubbing, whining, head lulling, whining. I scooped him up and informed him that we’d be making a journey into the living area where I would wipe and clean his bottom, and fit him with a hot-off-the-showroom, clean diaper. Upon completion of this adventure, we would put some warm and fuzzy pajamas on the little guy, and go do our nigh nighs.

Our kitchen has linoleum floors (I know, right? I’m living the high life over here), and the dining area has hardwood floors. The living area is carpeted, and this is where Tyler decided to show me all of his love. And this is when I realized that Tyler was not tired, but very, very sick. I fully understand that I can embellish certain things, to make them more entertaining – nothing big, because I think the facts are humorous by themselves – but I’m here to tell you that I’ve never seen vomit like this before. We’re talking Selma Blair and The Exorcist here. I was holding Tyler so that our heads were next to each other, him facing behind me. All I heard was a gurgling sound. Still holding Tyler, I turned to see what was going on and, in doing so, created an arched trail of vomit on the floor. The carpeted floor.

But that’s not the worst part! It got on ME. It was all over my arms. Honest to God (although I can’t think of a God that would allow this to happen to me), I had no idea so much fluid – and partially digested baby food – could fit in Tyler’s little belly.

”HOLY CRAP!” was all that I could think to say.

”What’s up?” Sarah called from the kitchen.

”Tyler just threw up EVERYWHERE!”

Sarah, like a ninja, just seemed to materialize in the living room with towels in her hands. She tended to cleaning up Tyler, while I rushed to the sink to clean myself. Delilah, the eternal helper, tried to lick the carpet clean for us. Although I was tempted to just let her do it, so that Sarah and I could clean and comfort Tyler, I shooed her away. I sat on the couch with Tyler – stripped to his diaper – and Sarah started spraying cleaner on the carpet. I felt so bad for the little guy. He just seemed so “out of it”. As a testament to how out-of-it he was feeling, he actually snuggled with me on the couch and rested his head on my chest. Normally, the boy fights sleep as if it’s his last night on Earth. To his credit, he’s very good at going to sleep when we put him in his crib though.

He vomited again in the middle of the night in his crib, so he had to sleep in our bed. This went on until we decided that we should probably get advice from our family doctor. The catalyst for me was Wednesday evening, when he vomited onto the tray on his highchair. It was green and white from the mucous and breastmilk. Tyler went in on Thursday and came out with the catch-all diagnosis of “Upper Respiratory Infection”. We decided to give him 24 more hours before trying antibiotics. I won’t get too much into it, but antibiotics have been linked to allergies and asthma in little ones.

Thursday evening, as if he understood that he was on a get-better-or-get-pills countdown, Tyler started feeling better. Sarah was exhausted and crashed on the couch, and her two boys played on the floor. Tyler was crawling everywhere and had finally regained his smile. The relief that the smile afforded me was immense.

When Sarah woke up from her nap and I told her how awesome Tyler seemed to be doing, she replied, “My throat hurts.”

On Friday evening, my throat started getting scratchy. On Sunday morning (right now), I want to cut my head off so that the pain will go away. It’s no secret that I’m a big baby when I’m sick, and poor Sarah has to deal with it.

The silver lining on all this is that Sarah feels much better today, and Tyler’s doing well, aside from a phlegmy cough.

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