I figure we were about due for a week from hell, things had been just a little too quiet lately. The beginning of the week started out quietly enough, then the nanny left at about 7 pm on Tuesday and by, oh say, 7:03 pm Eliza projectile vomited all over the living room (thankfully missing the area rug, but nicely filling in the little gaps in the floorboards). This continued non-stop (and I really do pretty well mean non-stop) for about four hours. My solution, since it is darn near impossible to clean the floor and hold Eliza at the same time, was to cover the entire exposed floor area with towels ... with every towel I own (the poor planning here revealed itself in the morning when it was time to shower for work). The towel method worked fairly well and by 1 am or so, having gotten about 4 ounces of pedialyte to stay in Eliza, she managed to pass out, so to speak, and slept until 4 am for a bottle. This being Manhattan, a washer/dryer is unheard of in an apartment so the laundry man got an extra good tip this week, bless his heart.
So after a night of non-stop vomiting, puking, refluxing, whatever you would like to call it, Eliza ate close to nothing for two days. Not a surprising development, pretty much her M.O. after a bad night like we had.
The hunger strike came to an end Friday, but Friday was not the happy day I was hoping for. Once again the nanny left at about 7 pm and at about 7:03 pm Eliza decided to climb on the chair, then on the table, then attempt to slide off the table, landing flat on her back with the table cracking her right across her forehead. Having had an average of three hours sleep at a stretch all week, I decided this was the time to become a blithering idiot.
So Eliza is screaming, bleeding a bit and has an egg on her forehead that would make Faberge himself proud and I can't figure out what to do. Then it dawns on me, call the NCCU! Now for those of you who think it is strange that I would call the NCCU 18 months after Eliza's discharge, I would point out that (a) Eliza's pedi works there (b) we visit them each month because the nurses like their Starbucks and cookies and (c) they really are the best folks going. Nurse Janice answers and after a tearful description of the incident and hearing Eliza screeching in the background, she suggests the ER. So I start to pack a bag, get my shoes, etc. while trying to hold Eliza. This is not working so I put Eliza in the living room and put a Backyardigans DVD on. I go to the bedroom to get my shoes and realize I no longer hear screaming from the living room. Of course I assume Eliza has keeled over from the blow to her head. But no! She is doing her ballerina twirl (with her arms in a nice third position for you ballet folks) to the theme song. So I say, huh, maybe I don't need to go to the ER? For good measure I call my sister-in-law (well former SIL, but who's counting) who is a pediatric ER nurse. She assures me that if Eliza can do her ballerina twirl then there is no closed head injury. To confirm this diagnosis I call the NCCU again and speak to Nurse Monica who confirms that ballerina twirling is in fact a known diagnostic test to rule out head injuries. The night ends with a much needed glass of wine for me and a bottle of Resource JFK for Eliza.
Saturday brings us to my parent's where I spend an inordinate amount of time explaining the Faberge egg on Eliza's head to my mother, who thankfully was not judgmental. We visited with my Dad who thought I was his sister June, but we a nice conversation about my husband "Bob" (June's husband) and my (their) farm. Dad is happy that all is well on the farm.
On Sunday I was inspired by my 20% off coupon for potty chairs to end this week from hell with the purchase of a potty chair for Eliza's future use. I mean really how hard can this potty training be? So I purchased not one, but three potty chairs. One for my mom's, one for the apartment and one for the house on Saba.
Eliza was very enthusiastic about the potty chair.
As you can see below Eliza is so very excited to be using her new potty chair ... as a giant cup from which to drink while in the tub. Oye. This week has got to be better.