![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
SG bought a slice of pizza at the airport in Newark this afternoon, and it appears to have played her false. What she thought was air-sickness because of a rather choppy landing translated into full-blown nausea, and later vomiting and...well, let's just say that she's in the shower trying to get clean. Augean stables, much? Poor sweet child is miserable and, other than turning on the shower and bringing her sips of diluted Gatorade, I can't do much to help her. She's still enough of a baby to want, unreasonably but wholeheartedly, for this to just stop.
Years ago I wrote an essay about cleaning the kid up after a long night of vomiting. This bout was far, far worse (I will spare you the details). I still don't feel like a particularly good mother; I'd still rather be in bed; but she still seems to derive comfort, however baseless, from my being there. So I am.
edited to add: Lest you think I am manning this particular fort all by myself, the Spouse not only stepped up manfully to the cleanup plate, but he has been bringing me Canada mints (the lovely pink wintergreen mints that, for some reason, you cannot get in California) as, I can only surmise, a gesture of spousal solidarity. He's a really good guy sometimes.
Years ago I wrote an essay about cleaning the kid up after a long night of vomiting. This bout was far, far worse (I will spare you the details). I still don't feel like a particularly good mother; I'd still rather be in bed; but she still seems to derive comfort, however baseless, from my being there. So I am.
edited to add: Lest you think I am manning this particular fort all by myself, the Spouse not only stepped up manfully to the cleanup plate, but he has been bringing me Canada mints (the lovely pink wintergreen mints that, for some reason, you cannot get in California) as, I can only surmise, a gesture of spousal solidarity. He's a really good guy sometimes.