Quarantine

10 sick Blueberries.

2 sick adults -- my mother and me.

5 calls with the pediatrician; one at 11 p.m. last night.

27 loads of laundry.

5 bottles of pedialyte. The plain kind that is nearly impossible to find in stores.

2 1/2 missed days of work.

1 case of Rotavirus...and 1 totally pathetic baby.

Poor, poor Anna. Just as I was gloating that I had TONS..BOATLOADS..of use it or lose it vacation. Because I had saved all my annual leave to deal with sick children post maternity leave. Of course they'd get sick what with Lily transitioning to a new preschool and Anna starting daycare. But, then, they hadn't gotten sick. Hadn't missed one single day. Until Tuesday. I should learn to bite my tongue...

The email from the Huck came through at about 2 p.m. on Tuesday. Anna had been projectile vomiting. So had others in the classroom. Something was going around and it was fast and furious. Could I pick her up. Within the hour. They'd just sent NINE other babies home.

Slammed at work, unlike any day in recent history, I couldn't have gotten away if we'd been in the midst of an attack. I had deadline after deadline after client deliverable due before close of business. Noah was at home. Sick himself. Too sick to drive downtown. So my dear sweet mother obliged; Nettie to the rescue!

I've never seen a baby throw up more than Anna has these past 5 days. And when she wasn't throwing up (and, no, this isn't sweet smelling baby spit-up...this is full-fledged quasi-adult vomit...of the most stinky variety), she was lying around looking completely pathetic. And while the bug did make it to my digestive tract too, it totally invaded my mother's. She wins a medal for this grandmotherly tour of duty.

I'm happy to say that, five days later, Anna appears to be on the mend. I've started mixing in a touch of formula to the pedialyte bottles. She's had a few bites of rice cereal, and I've even snuck in a bite of applesauce here and there. Knock on wood, but so far she's managed to keep it all down. Although I do hold my breath every time she makes just the smallest of noise that's out of the ordinary. I fear that she's going to get a complex, but I've been following her around with towels and plastic bags.

With only 4 days of life as a Huckleberry Cheesecake Blueberry left, I hope that she's able to make it to school this week. Her teachers won't forgive me if they miss one last second with her. They might also not forgive me for the shiner she got today. When she took a nose dive off the living room sofa. When I was just steps away and supposed to be watching her. As if the stomach thing wasn't enough, now my baby is getting her first black eye.

Fear not, the guilt is gut-wrenching. Or perhaps that's the Rotavirus raring it's ugly head.


Can't say that I blame her for looking so darn pissed off!