Just a Light Touch of the Plague
It all started with a rejected dinner, and it was a darn good dinner too – one of the kid’s favorites which is why the rejection of said dinner was so strange. Half-way through, Quokka dropped half her sandwich and said, “it’s good mom, I just can’t tonight.”
Coming from Quokka, this is a major thing. The girl has never met a dinner she didn’t eat – even when it was my disastrous attempt to make brussels sprouts – she will do her womanly best to choke it down. She took her uneasy stomach to bed and was an immobile lump in the blankets within minutes.
Then, Badger, who is still small enough to make middle of the night visits horror-movie-levels of creepy, woke me up at 2:00 am to tell me she didn’t feel well. After I peeled myself off the ceiling, I told her to try a sip of water and see if that would settle her tummy.
Water running
Slurping noises
Pad, pad, padding little feet across the hall and the creak of her bed frame
A few minutes of silence as I started to drift back to sleep
PAD, PAD, PAD, PAD, PAD, PAD, CRASH!
I leapt from bed, threw on a robe, and ran for the bathroom. Badger, in her too-big nightshirt, retched miserably into the white porcelain bowl clutching her hair in one little fist. I grabbed an elastic from the clutter on their counter and gathered her long mop of curls out of the way.
She glared at me in the dim light. “I told you I didn’t feel well,” she gasped between heaves.
“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”
"Oh, this is disgusting!" she wheezed.
I handed her tissue to wipe her mouth, "I know, baby."
When she was done tossing her cookies, she collapsed into a tiny, shivering heap on the floor. I scooped her up and tucked her back in bed with the dedicated, family vom-bowl for security. Then crawled back into my own bed fervently praying we were done for the night.
The next day, both Badger and Quokka were down for the count - greenish-gray with dark circles ringing their eyes, treacherous stomachs, and low fevers. I parked them on the couch and packed Athena, still bright eyed and bushy tailed, off to school.
While not pretty, the illness was mercifully short. Quokka never actually lost her lunch (or breakfast, or dinner), she just suffered through stabbing stomach pain, chills, and nausea. Badger subsisted on plain pasta and ice chips and didn’t throw up again. By the next day they were both mostly recovered and hungry – oh joy!
I kept an eye on Athena, but she appeared to have been spared the 36-hour plague.
Uh, yeah, no. Not so much.
We had a lot going on that weekend, but alas, the best-laid plans of mice, men, and moms…
There was Mr. Puff’s belated birthday gathering at his parent’s house, running, cleaning, mountains of laundry, errands, and the sleep-over Athena had scheduled with a new friend.
They met several months ago, but since they don’t attend the same school, they haven’t had a lot of time to hang out. Some play dates, crafting afternoons, pool adventures – they really seemed to click in the relatively short time they’d spent together.
They started lobbying hard for a sleep over during winter break. The other mom and I were cautious – trying to ensure the two of them were compatible enough for the hours of togetherness involved in a sleepover. Then we had to tackle the logistics of scheduling a sleep over – which requires extensive negotiation of family, work, school, kid, and sports obligations. Finally, we managed to find the one Saturday night in the next two months that was clear.
Making the stakes even higher for success – this was the new friend’s first-ever sleep over.
Athena spent days planning what to bring, exploring options for hauling the loot, and imagining the night’s events. I reminded her not to torture her friend, or her friend’s family, by keeping everyone up half the night – few people can match her night-owl stamina.
At drop-off time, they ran off together with a quick, “See ya mom! Love you!” tossed over a shoulder. I talked with sleepover parents for a few minutes, but the kids were clearly having fun with no awkwardness, and I left confident they’d have a great time until pick-up the next day.
Throughout the afternoon I got texts with pictures of the two of them crafting, making unicorns, sewing pillows, and having fun. Success!
It was a bit of a tense discussion that briefly flared into a full-on, WWE-style smack-down (please note, this refers to the intensity, nothing was actually smacked down)...while sorting laundry and cleaning our room – fun times. We don’t always argue, but when we do it’s Dos Intensity.
This was not how I envisioned spending the afternoon, but the two remaining kids had a good time with their Wii smack-down and the Parental Puffs got through some stuff – okay, all good.
Throw a load of laundry in, tell the kids to pick a movie, and make some dinner. I was just scooping the first spoonful out of the pan and onto a plate when my phone lit up:
I handed the spoon to Mr. Puff, “Finish serving dinner. I have to get Athena, she’s sick.”
Texting back as fast as my fingers would go, I ran for my shoes and keys, certain sleepover mom did not understand what was going on.
First, poor Athena had not been spared, she just had a longer incubation cycle than her sisters, and I had brought a sick kid to someone else’s house. Oh, the horror.
Second, while Badger somehow manages to competently vomit and have accusatory conversations at the same time, Athena lives in mortal terror of spewing. Which is really a problem because she’s my pukey kid. Even an ordinary cold prompts her body to hit the eject button and dump all contents just in case it might help.
It does not help.
So, I was certain that Athena was on the verge of barfing and terrified of doing so in their beautiful home, in front of new friend and new friend’s family. She would be fighting not to cry because public displays of emotion embarrass her, and she would be near tears because she’s afraid of throwing up and upset the sleepover was ruined.
She would manage by clamping down on all emotion and using her iron will to keep absolute control over herself. Which means these poor people were probably confused about why this kid had suddenly gone stone-faced and announced she needed to go home.
I leapt in the car and, once again, put my Subaru’s acceleration to the test – one guy in a Mustang seemed to think we were drag racing and was revving his engine at each light. Nah, dude, I’m just a frantic mom trying to rescue my pukey, anxious kid.
I screeched into their drive and threw the car in park. My sick child, new friend, and sleepover mom stood shivering on the front walk. Athena immediately shuffled to the car, got in, and slammed the door. Sleepover mom handed over Athena’s bag with wide eyes, new friend was battling tears. I thanked her and tried to quickly explain that it wasn’t them, it was us. Then I sprinted away, and we were off.
Athena’s teeth were chattering despite the seat-warmer cranked to high, the heater blowing, and the pillow clutched to her chest.
Through clicking teeth, she gasped out, “Thank you for picking me up.”
“Of course, baby. I knew you’d be terrified you’d throw up in her car and I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”
“Yes! Thank you, mama. My stomach hurts really bad. It started before dinner. I thought maybe I was hungry, but it got worse after I ate. I thought I could just ignore it and it would get better, but it kept getting worse and worse and then…”
“You were afraid you were going to throw up and you didn’t want to do it in their house?”
“No! It’s all ruined, poor friend, I just had to go!” Tears welled in her eyes, but she clamped down, taking a deep breath, and tightening her mouth.
“I’ll text sleepover mom when we get home, tell them you’re sorry, and reschedule for later – if that’s what you want?”
“Yes!” she curled forward clutching her stomach, “It hurts so bad. We were having fun. I was making a pillow!” she wailed.
What a way to cap off the day.
I got to work texting sleepover mom to apologize for exposing their lovely, healthy family to my plague-ridden child, and to try explaining that Athena’s abrupt change into a stone-faced, emotionless serial-killer was the result of pain and mortification, not dislike. It’s a hard sell. New friend was, I’m sure, confused and upset by the abrupt transformation and hasty exit.
Sleepover mom confirmed that new friend was indeed sad to the point of tears. Athena was curled in a miserable ball in the corner of the couch, hot rice bag clutched to her stomach, fever at 99.8 F and climbing.
Texting does not provide much of an opportunity to thoroughly explain that besides feeling sick, Athena has serious anxiety about the physical pain of vomiting, and absolute terror of other people seeing her ill. She retreats, closes down, pulls everything in and clamps it tight because she can’t bear for others to see her distress, pain, and embarrassment.
My eyes snapped open, “you okay?”
“You don’t have to get up.” Athena’s voice, tight with tears and pain.
I rolled out of bed and grabbed my robe, detoured to grab hers, and repeated the process from two nights before – scrounge an elastic from the clutter of kid stuff on the counter, scoop back the hair, and fling the robe around her shivering back. In between stabbing stomach pain and helpless retching, she assured me she would be fine, I could go back to bed because she didn’t want me to be too tired.
I offered tissues to wipe her face and patted her back until she told me to knock it off, the patting was making it worse. After more than an hour crouched together in the gloom of the bathroom, her cramps subsided a bit and Athena agreed to try laying down. She finally settled on a nest of blankets and pillows half way in the bathroom door, the farthest she was willing to venture from the toilet, and I stumbled my way back to bed.
Sleepover mom sent a text first thing to see how Athena was doing. Athena was still asleep half in/half out of the bathroom. I apologized again for potentially infecting their family with our wayward cooties, and reiterated Athena’s disappointment about the abrupt cancellation of the sleepover. But, I’m not sure how it plays for someone who doesn’t understand Athena’s stone-cold reaction to potential embarrassment.
She is a package of contradictions I struggle to understand. My greatest challenge is helping her navigate the social pressure to fit in without losing all the twists and turns that make her so interesting and unique. It’s tough supporting a child who is more afraid of embarrassment and public shame than physical injury.
She’s tough as nails about getting hurt physically – even a gushing head wound was met with calm competence – but she sobs if a character in the book she’s reading is isolated or alone. Her emotions demand more care than her physical body, and some people find her reactions confusing and inexplicable. Sometimes they say her reactions are wrong. So, she retreats and defends her tender soul with an iron mask of indifference and hides another piece of herself away.
Life is messy and volatile, full of disappointments and inconveniences, punctuated by occasional tragedy. Athena and I are working hard* to help her build tools and the resilience she needs to navigate the always unpredictable terrain.
Her next test will be facing new friend’s family, conquering her embarrassment over what almost happened, and carrying on as if nothing happened at all.
Sleepover mom and I have been back in Admin mode, searching our complex mom-schedules, to arrange a new sleepover.
The date is set. Fingers crossed.
 |
| Tomato-basil soup and a tuna melt, mmmm |
Coming from Quokka, this is a major thing. The girl has never met a dinner she didn’t eat – even when it was my disastrous attempt to make brussels sprouts – she will do her womanly best to choke it down. She took her uneasy stomach to bed and was an immobile lump in the blankets within minutes.
Then, Badger, who is still small enough to make middle of the night visits horror-movie-levels of creepy, woke me up at 2:00 am to tell me she didn’t feel well. After I peeled myself off the ceiling, I told her to try a sip of water and see if that would settle her tummy.
Water running
Slurping noises
Pad, pad, padding little feet across the hall and the creak of her bed frame
A few minutes of silence as I started to drift back to sleep
PAD, PAD, PAD, PAD, PAD, PAD, CRASH!
I leapt from bed, threw on a robe, and ran for the bathroom. Badger, in her too-big nightshirt, retched miserably into the white porcelain bowl clutching her hair in one little fist. I grabbed an elastic from the clutter on their counter and gathered her long mop of curls out of the way.
She glared at me in the dim light. “I told you I didn’t feel well,” she gasped between heaves.
“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”
"Oh, this is disgusting!" she wheezed.
I handed her tissue to wipe her mouth, "I know, baby."
When she was done tossing her cookies, she collapsed into a tiny, shivering heap on the floor. I scooped her up and tucked her back in bed with the dedicated, family vom-bowl for security. Then crawled back into my own bed fervently praying we were done for the night.
The next day, both Badger and Quokka were down for the count - greenish-gray with dark circles ringing their eyes, treacherous stomachs, and low fevers. I parked them on the couch and packed Athena, still bright eyed and bushy tailed, off to school.
While not pretty, the illness was mercifully short. Quokka never actually lost her lunch (or breakfast, or dinner), she just suffered through stabbing stomach pain, chills, and nausea. Badger subsisted on plain pasta and ice chips and didn’t throw up again. By the next day they were both mostly recovered and hungry – oh joy!
I kept an eye on Athena, but she appeared to have been spared the 36-hour plague.
Uh, yeah, no. Not so much.
Bump, Bump, Bump
While none of this was fun, it’s not uncommon, and not much more than an inconvenience. It’s also not really the point of this rambling tale. Life is frequently messy – and so is this story.We had a lot going on that weekend, but alas, the best-laid plans of mice, men, and moms…
There was Mr. Puff’s belated birthday gathering at his parent’s house, running, cleaning, mountains of laundry, errands, and the sleep-over Athena had scheduled with a new friend.
They met several months ago, but since they don’t attend the same school, they haven’t had a lot of time to hang out. Some play dates, crafting afternoons, pool adventures – they really seemed to click in the relatively short time they’d spent together.
They started lobbying hard for a sleep over during winter break. The other mom and I were cautious – trying to ensure the two of them were compatible enough for the hours of togetherness involved in a sleepover. Then we had to tackle the logistics of scheduling a sleep over – which requires extensive negotiation of family, work, school, kid, and sports obligations. Finally, we managed to find the one Saturday night in the next two months that was clear.
Making the stakes even higher for success – this was the new friend’s first-ever sleep over.
 |
| All packed up in the sleepover backpack |
At drop-off time, they ran off together with a quick, “See ya mom! Love you!” tossed over a shoulder. I talked with sleepover parents for a few minutes, but the kids were clearly having fun with no awkwardness, and I left confident they’d have a great time until pick-up the next day.
Throughout the afternoon I got texts with pictures of the two of them crafting, making unicorns, sewing pillows, and having fun. Success!
In Which all is a Shambles
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Puff one and three were in a pitched battle with a spider monster-looking thing on the Wii. I decided this would be a good time to, uhm, talk to Mr. Puff about a difficult project in the works, and how it’s working for each of us.It was a bit of a tense discussion that briefly flared into a full-on, WWE-style smack-down (please note, this refers to the intensity, nothing was actually smacked down)...while sorting laundry and cleaning our room – fun times. We don’t always argue, but when we do it’s Dos Intensity.
This was not how I envisioned spending the afternoon, but the two remaining kids had a good time with their Wii smack-down and the Parental Puffs got through some stuff – okay, all good.
Throw a load of laundry in, tell the kids to pick a movie, and make some dinner. I was just scooping the first spoonful out of the pan and onto a plate when my phone lit up:
I handed the spoon to Mr. Puff, “Finish serving dinner. I have to get Athena, she’s sick.”
Texting back as fast as my fingers would go, I ran for my shoes and keys, certain sleepover mom did not understand what was going on.
First, poor Athena had not been spared, she just had a longer incubation cycle than her sisters, and I had brought a sick kid to someone else’s house. Oh, the horror.
Second, while Badger somehow manages to competently vomit and have accusatory conversations at the same time, Athena lives in mortal terror of spewing. Which is really a problem because she’s my pukey kid. Even an ordinary cold prompts her body to hit the eject button and dump all contents just in case it might help.
It does not help.
So, I was certain that Athena was on the verge of barfing and terrified of doing so in their beautiful home, in front of new friend and new friend’s family. She would be fighting not to cry because public displays of emotion embarrass her, and she would be near tears because she’s afraid of throwing up and upset the sleepover was ruined.
She would manage by clamping down on all emotion and using her iron will to keep absolute control over herself. Which means these poor people were probably confused about why this kid had suddenly gone stone-faced and announced she needed to go home.
I leapt in the car and, once again, put my Subaru’s acceleration to the test – one guy in a Mustang seemed to think we were drag racing and was revving his engine at each light. Nah, dude, I’m just a frantic mom trying to rescue my pukey, anxious kid.
I screeched into their drive and threw the car in park. My sick child, new friend, and sleepover mom stood shivering on the front walk. Athena immediately shuffled to the car, got in, and slammed the door. Sleepover mom handed over Athena’s bag with wide eyes, new friend was battling tears. I thanked her and tried to quickly explain that it wasn’t them, it was us. Then I sprinted away, and we were off.
Athena’s teeth were chattering despite the seat-warmer cranked to high, the heater blowing, and the pillow clutched to her chest.
Through clicking teeth, she gasped out, “Thank you for picking me up.”
“Of course, baby. I knew you’d be terrified you’d throw up in her car and I didn’t want you to have to worry about it.”
“Yes! Thank you, mama. My stomach hurts really bad. It started before dinner. I thought maybe I was hungry, but it got worse after I ate. I thought I could just ignore it and it would get better, but it kept getting worse and worse and then…”
“You were afraid you were going to throw up and you didn’t want to do it in their house?”
“No! It’s all ruined, poor friend, I just had to go!” Tears welled in her eyes, but she clamped down, taking a deep breath, and tightening her mouth.
“I’ll text sleepover mom when we get home, tell them you’re sorry, and reschedule for later – if that’s what you want?”
“Yes!” she curled forward clutching her stomach, “It hurts so bad. We were having fun. I was making a pillow!” she wailed.
What a way to cap off the day.
Big, Little Problems
Athena was mortified and in pain. She was upset the sleepover was a bust. She was horrified she might have gotten new friend, and friend’s family, sick. She was afraid she would never be invited back, and that new friend would not want to be her friend anymore. She was distraught that she had ruined new friend’s first sleep over ever. She was still terrified of throwing up.I got to work texting sleepover mom to apologize for exposing their lovely, healthy family to my plague-ridden child, and to try explaining that Athena’s abrupt change into a stone-faced, emotionless serial-killer was the result of pain and mortification, not dislike. It’s a hard sell. New friend was, I’m sure, confused and upset by the abrupt transformation and hasty exit.
Sleepover mom confirmed that new friend was indeed sad to the point of tears. Athena was curled in a miserable ball in the corner of the couch, hot rice bag clutched to her stomach, fever at 99.8 F and climbing.
Texting does not provide much of an opportunity to thoroughly explain that besides feeling sick, Athena has serious anxiety about the physical pain of vomiting, and absolute terror of other people seeing her ill. She retreats, closes down, pulls everything in and clamps it tight because she can’t bear for others to see her distress, pain, and embarrassment.
2:00 am…Again
THUMP, PAD, PAD, PAD, CRASH!My eyes snapped open, “you okay?”
“You don’t have to get up.” Athena’s voice, tight with tears and pain.
I rolled out of bed and grabbed my robe, detoured to grab hers, and repeated the process from two nights before – scrounge an elastic from the clutter of kid stuff on the counter, scoop back the hair, and fling the robe around her shivering back. In between stabbing stomach pain and helpless retching, she assured me she would be fine, I could go back to bed because she didn’t want me to be too tired.
I offered tissues to wipe her face and patted her back until she told me to knock it off, the patting was making it worse. After more than an hour crouched together in the gloom of the bathroom, her cramps subsided a bit and Athena agreed to try laying down. She finally settled on a nest of blankets and pillows half way in the bathroom door, the farthest she was willing to venture from the toilet, and I stumbled my way back to bed.
Sleepover mom sent a text first thing to see how Athena was doing. Athena was still asleep half in/half out of the bathroom. I apologized again for potentially infecting their family with our wayward cooties, and reiterated Athena’s disappointment about the abrupt cancellation of the sleepover. But, I’m not sure how it plays for someone who doesn’t understand Athena’s stone-cold reaction to potential embarrassment.
A Delicate Flower, Made of Iron
All three girls have their individual personalities, their quirks, and complexities, but Athena is an intricate little creature. She is courageous, a risk taker, but shy and reticent. She is distractible and a dreamer but iron-willed and fierce. She is sarcastic and biting, and sensitive and empathetic. She is expressive and funny but shuts down and becomes a blank slate when she’s angry or upset. She is beautiful and charismatic, but self-conscious and wary of embarrassment or exclusion.She is a package of contradictions I struggle to understand. My greatest challenge is helping her navigate the social pressure to fit in without losing all the twists and turns that make her so interesting and unique. It’s tough supporting a child who is more afraid of embarrassment and public shame than physical injury.
She’s tough as nails about getting hurt physically – even a gushing head wound was met with calm competence – but she sobs if a character in the book she’s reading is isolated or alone. Her emotions demand more care than her physical body, and some people find her reactions confusing and inexplicable. Sometimes they say her reactions are wrong. So, she retreats and defends her tender soul with an iron mask of indifference and hides another piece of herself away.
Life is messy and volatile, full of disappointments and inconveniences, punctuated by occasional tragedy. Athena and I are working hard* to help her build tools and the resilience she needs to navigate the always unpredictable terrain.
Her next test will be facing new friend’s family, conquering her embarrassment over what almost happened, and carrying on as if nothing happened at all.
Sleepover mom and I have been back in Admin mode, searching our complex mom-schedules, to arrange a new sleepover.
The date is set. Fingers crossed.
