Yesterday my daughter was home sick, so I was, too. The whole thing started Saturday afternoon, with vomit in one of the worst places to have vomit: the car seat. First, the child is strapped in, looking pretty upset as she simultaneously retches and tries to bend over to expel the stuff, all the while with the seat straps holding her back. Sorry I don't have pictures.
Needless to say, that can get dangerous, what with the mouth filling up with chunky liquid and the head position slightly reclined, but we stopped the car immediately and rushed to her aid. The nastiness continued through the evening (although to in the interest of full disclosure, I'll embark on this sidebar: my wife and I had evening plans and a babysitter arranged, so when the little one got sick we cancelled the sitter and discussed who would stay home and who would go out. I got to go out), and then she slept through the night just fine.
Only to throw her breakfast up the next morning. And was fine all day after that, eating a huge lunch of something like five slices of quesadilla, and keeping it down. We thought we were out of the woods, then 5:30 a.m. Monday morning she throws up again. And I stayed home. And we're back to where we were in the first sentence of this post.
Now normally, being off work in the regular work week is a pretty good gig, because you get to see this other world that is populated by the waitstaff, bartenders, night-shift maintenance staff, drug dealers, prostitutes, and the unemployed. These are the people who are in the coffee shops and walking the neighborhood streets during the day. However, this time I stayed inside the entire day (not wanting to tempt fate like I did last time my son was sick: he seemed a bit better in the afternoon so we went to the zoo, which is right around the corner, but let me tell you, he wasn't better...), which inevitably saved me money because I would have found an excuse to eat lunch out and buy a cd or two at Crooked Beat.
All seems to be good today, so let's keep our fingers crossed.