after work on friday i headed home, as is my custom.  when i got there i was regaled with the tales of stacky's family's woes precipitated by some bad thai food.  i listened in horror to the story of her father and his battles with his innards.  not good.  but it was food poisoning.  that kind of thing happens with food poisoning.

saturday rolls around and the m-i-l calls up asking if we'd babysit for f-i-l since she still hasn't really restocked since the hurricane.  we agreed, packed up the boy and headed over.  the f-i-l didn't look so good, but he wasn't dead.  that's a start, right?  we hung out until nap time and went home.  life proceeded apace for a saturday.  there was some slacking, playing with the boy, and we made what will go down in history as the greatest deep dish pizza ever made in a home oven.  seriously.  take your stories of hyperbole elsewhere.  this was the food of the gods in pizza form.

stacky couldn't eat it.  her stomach was bubbling and rolling.  "this," i thought to myself, "is not good."  the dude had a piece and i had more than a manly share.  he was peaceful and sated so i put him to bed with little or no fuss after his evening bath. 

with the dude in bed, the wife commented that she might be heading downhill and would like to have some gatorade and immodium on hand just in case.  she also mentioned that i might pick up a bottle of pedialyte while at the drug store.  i found the items in question and placed them before the clerk.  with a kindly but dumb look she asked how i was doing this evening.  i looked at my purchases and said, "not so hot."  she looked down and gave me a sad look.  "i hope it gets better," she said.  i thanked her and left.

have i mentioned that my wife is either psychic or brilliant?  maybe it's that mom power thing.

stacky and i settled down to watch more of david lynch's dune.  it ain't great, but i dig it and she hasn't seen it yet so there ya go.  at about 9 pm, she paused the movie and said she was going to bed.  she asked if i would read/type in bed so i went in.  at about 10 she had hogged up most of the bed and it was impossible for me to do anything, so i got up and went to the living room.  and then the fun started.

i'm writing a bit of a thought piece on one of my pet subjects.  i was really into it.  i heard the dog come out after the dude chirped a couple of times.  she looked at me with her "aren't you going to bed yet?" look and i went about my business.  a minute or two later, the dude started to actually cry and i had a rottweiler in my face herding me toward him.  i got to the hallway and i could smell the vomit.  he was soaked in it.

i took him to the master bathroom and started cleaning him.  stacky got out of bed long enough to hold him upright for a minute.  in the bathroom light she was grey and looked like a little slice of death.  to myself i said "well, she's done."  she looked at me with panic and said "i have to go!" and bolted for the other bathroom.  to the boy i muttered quietly "say buh-bye to mommy for a while."

at this point, stacky leaves the story.  i saw her in passing, she was always asleep, but i heard various doors slam and the sounds associated with gastric disease echoing through the house like a distant symphony of pain.

i got him bathed and he vomited again.  more chunks of pizza in my hand.  he really needs more teeth to grind stuff up!  since this was my first real round with a potentially dehydrated and virally abused baby, i thought i'd call up the doctors 24/7 line.  a call-back was arranged.

stacky went back to bed and i took the boy to the living room.  i laid him down on the couch and put a large bowl on the floor.  it was a very mechanical operation and my boy is quite the cheerful stoic.  when he was going to be sick, he sat up and looked at me.  i would pick him up and hold him flat over the bowl.  each time, he put his hands behind him and wretched.  then there was a quick wiping of the face and he would lay back down and babble at me.  it was the look of "why is this happening to me, daddy?" that was so hard to see.

the call back from the nurse was timely and i was assured that my plans were solid.  nothing more would go in until it was all out.  and after it was all out anything that went in would be carefully monitored.  she was quite a hoot and waited patiently as i tried to hold the phone to my ear and help the dude through his vomiting cycle.  she was sympathetic and kind.  she gave clear directions without making me feel stupid.  all in all, i was very impressed.  it reminded me that honestly, if "pediatric" is in your specialty's name, you really need to be on the ball all the time and have bullet-proof bedside manner.  she was the top of the heap!

i opened a sticky on my dashboard and recorded 12:47 am as "the last vomit."  this, as it turns out, was optimistic.  there were 4 more rounds ending at 3:23 am when he finally went to sleep for good.  or until 5 am.  at 5 i decided that i should try to sleep.  i took him into his crib and after 10 minutes of his patented freaking out, moved him to the bed with me.  at about 6 i was hit with a smell i will never forget.  it was everywhere.  his butt was catching up with his mouth.  nice.

at about 7 or so (after giving both the boy and myself the silkwood scrub down) i dumped him into bed with his mother.  i ate some scrambled eggs (they'd be easy to eject if need be).  i tried to nap on the couch.  every time i got close to sleep, i got a call for a status report from some well meaning soul.  morons.  i didn't nap until well after noon.

the house was quiet yesterday.  stacky and the boy napped in the big bed and i blacked out on the couch for a bit.  dinner was reheated pizza for me (still brilliant!) and bananas (code name: yellow monkey fruit to avoid the demanding tantrum of the b-word) for stacky and the boy.  the boy is at about 85% based on spazziness and general skittering about.  the wife is up and about.  she's looking good (no that way...yet) but i need to keep her hobbled a bit lest she overdo it.  and i called in a personal day because these two still need a little attention and i think i would kill the first person with a stupid question today.  i'm still fucking exhausted, but not sick.  praise be, i was passed over!

for the rest of the day i will watch a boy spaz out, read a little, write a little and maybe get into my studio a little on the early side or restring a guitar or two.  much rest will be had and hopefully the week will pick up after this.