Last night, looking distressed, Sabrina ran up to me. And proceeded to throw up on me three times. Poor baby. And also, gross. She had also thrown up on the stairs.
So, I cleaned up everything. Then I gave her some juice. After all, she'd also had diarrhea (she came running in: "I had diawwea!") and I was worried about dehydration and stuff. I put her to bed with a throw up bowl.
Then she threw up again. Pink throwup this time, since after four good vomits she only had juice in her stomach. Okay. Clean that up.
Because I had not learned, I was doomed to repeat my mistake. Here's some water, sweetie. Drink it slow. Annnnnd, more vomit. This time clear. Just stomach acid and water. Despite Sabrina's complaints about being thirsty, I denied her water. Which of you, if your daughter is thirsty, will give her a stone? Me, apparently.
Well, she threw up once more in the night, but she's better this morning. A six-hour flu. And while being a mom has its less glamorous moments, having her snuggled up beside me sure makes me happy.
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