The Marathon

Although we would like to tell you that both Michael and I are going to or have run, walked or biked a Marathon, this post is actually about Isabelle and her Marathon...her "Barf-a-thon" to be exact. (Disclaimer: If you have a weak stomach, do not continue reading. If you need this blog to stop, place one hand over your mouth and the other in the air and we will stop the blog immediately. Don't worry, no gross pictures are included in this entry...just a sad one.

Wednesday afternoon started off as it usually does, minus being at Grandmama's since they are still in Europe. I was working from home that afternoon and decided once it was time to close the home office, that Isabelle and I would take a walk to the park and invite our neighbor Sophia and her cousin Rebeka to join us. We took Isabelle's "princess car" (which I am sure Micheal's wishes we "accidentally left" there) that she rode or pushed all the way there, picking up leaves on the way. We stayed at the park for about 40 minutes and she was as happy as can be! The girls were pushing her on the swing, taking her down the big twisty slide, running around having a great time. When it started getting a dark out, we got ready to go but Isabelle wanted to stay and play more...doesn't sound like a kid who is sick, does it? We got home, had dinner, Izzy took a bath and then her and I kicked back on the couch to watch one of her Signing Time DVD's before she went to bed. Still, nothing she did or didn't do made me think that the night was going to take a turn for the worse in less than 2 hours time.

My friend Vanessa had come over to go walking with me around 8:30pm; I take the video monitor with us as we walk 15+ times around my complex's loop...it amazingly has a pretty for reach. We got back and were chatting when all of a sudden we heard Isabelle crying. I thought maybe she was having a nightmare so I waited to see if it would subside but when it continued and got louder, I ran upstairs and then it hit me...the smell...you all know exactly what I am talking about too! I quickly turned on her light real low and there she was, lying there crying and covered in throw up. It was everywhere! Our poor little girl! I picked her up and held her, hollered down to Vanessa who quickly (and thankfully) ran upstairs and without asking, started getting the nursery cleaned up for me while I got another bath drawn to wash this yuckiness off of her and out of her hair and get her into some clean warm jammies. Little did I/we know, that this was going to happen 5 more times within the course of 5 hours.

I would literally get her cleaned up, keep her up with me for about 30 minutes as she fights trying to stay awake, put her back in her crib and 15-20 minutes later...the cycle started over again. She went through 2 blankets, 3 pillows and their cases, 2 crib sheets and 5 pairs of PJ's as well as taking a total of 5 baths that night. Michael got home from the theatre when we were on Round 4...just as Isabelle just finished throwing up on me while I was trying to rock her back to sleep. He said that he would keep her downstairs with him and told me to get some sleep. She finally went to back to sleep around 3am downstairs with her Papa but only after he got his 2 rounds of the "barf-a-thon". Isabelle was back in her clean, bath towel lined, crib at around 4:30am and slept through the remainder of those twilight hours peacefully.

Six episodes and three loads of laundry later I can't help but think, "this wasn't in any of our baby books".