Retribution

***WARNING:***
THIS POST CONTAINS GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF FLU-RELATED ISSUES AND BODILY FLUIDS. BE FOREWARNED.

Remember how in my previous post I mentioned that Jeffy had blissfully gotten up with Neva all last night while I slept right on through?

I've just paid the price for that, cosmically speaking.

He's working in Campbellford tonight, so is out of the picture parenting-wise (unless, of course, you count breadwinning as "parenting," which it is, in the sense that it provides the funds for the necessities of parenting). I had a relaxing evening of encouraging Hugh to stay in his room and figuring out what the baby wanted to eat (carbs and cheese were the verdict -- no wonder I make big babies).

Anyway: I went upstairs to check on the kids, and found Hugh sleeping comfortably on the floor under his blanket. When I looked under the comforter on his bed, I found a tractor, a fire engine, a truck, and his elephant stuffy. Maybe he was just leaving room for them, I don't know, but in any case I moved the vehicles out of his bed and his body back up in to it without incident.

I then went to check on Neva. There was a funny smell coming from her room. I lifted her comforter up to check on things and found... well. She's had the flu, she was knocked out on Gravol, and apparently she didn't notice that she had had an episode of diarrhea in her bed, since she was still sound asleep. Sigh. Poor kid.

Naturally, I woke her, brought her in to the bathtub and ran a bath to clean her up. There's a huge load of laundry in the washer right now, complete with bleach and scheduled for an extra-rinse cycle. (Cleaning up pee and vomit is a delight compared to cleaning up a diarrhea accident, let me just tell you. All of you child-free people out there may offer silent thanks that this is not something you need to deal with.)

Then Neva and I had a lovely little argument about whether she'd had an "accident" or not. Apparently she was still oblivious to the fact that she had poop all up her back and down her legs; she thought I was giving her a bath at 11pm "because she was cold." I told her that she'd had an accident. "When, Mommy? WHEN?" she asked, disbelieving and insistent. I replied that it must have happened sometime that night, while she was sleeping. She wouldn't actually believe me until I showed her the sheets. Nothing like having your kid get all "I don't believe you" after you've changed their poopy pyjamas and sheets and have washed them in the tub.

If there's a silver lining at all (and I'm really reaching, here), it's that my pregnancy nausea has been gone for long enough that spending a day around vomit and diarrhea hasn't triggered any vomiting of my own. I cannot imagine the horror show which would have ensued had Neva's flu occured two months ago. I guess this is what is called being grateful for small mercies. Hopefully I can get through the night at this point; surely the last hour has been enough penance for my blissful sleep last night, right?