nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Ry and his funky tummy

Today is not going in any way like I'd planned.

I promised the boys yesterday that as long as we got all chore-type activities done, they could haul their bikes out into the sunshine today. I also mentioned wanting to get out of town for awhile as well.

Neither is going to happen. I woke up at 3 am to a small person's voice saying, "Mommy? I don't feel so good". Ry has a funny tummy--he can end up sicker than a dog with no fever and no apparent cause. And it'll pass in just a day, sometimes two. After waking me up with that comment, he huddled over the toilet, miserable and sad. Poor baby.

My morning was spent curled up on the couch with him, stroking the hair off his forehead and babying him, just as every child likes when they're sick. Heck, there're grown men that like that! He's only been able to keep down ice cold 7UP to this point and he looks like death warmed over. He takes after me and naturally is a pretty pale pup but his current coloring is consistent with wallpaper paste.

Trevor, of course, is at loose ends because his best friend and companion is down and out. Trev hates being by himself. His greatest joy is being with people. And as I type this, one boy is at each end of the couch, watching some Bionicle movie. Trev went outside for all of ten seconds and then decided he didn't want to be out there by himself. And to be honest, I've found that it's nearly impossible to keep germs from passing between kiddos. I could keep Trev confined to a completely separate room and he'd still catch it, if he's going to. I think Ry's funny tummy is just doin' it's thing.

And so I'm looking out my window at the bright and glorious sunshine, sucking in the breeze that's blowing and listening to birds chirping in trees I'll most likely not get outside to see today for any length of time. I suppose it all depends on how Ry's feeling this evening. Maybe we'll sit on the front porch and blow bubbles.

Can't say having a slow and relaxed day is such a bad thing. Just wish it weren't because of a small boy with dry heaves.

Happy Sunday.

N.

1:37 p.m. - 2004-04-18

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