Wednesday night I went out to finish my online finals that night, came home, Jude woke up as soon as I started getting ready for bed, we cuddled, he nursed, and we both fell asleep.
Next thing I know, my bed is covered in puke (complete with half-chewed macaroni noodles) and he's throwing up. I panic and pick him up, take him to the bathroom, strip him naked and give him a bath (at 2 in the morning, mind you) to clean the puke out of his hair. The whole time, the poor guy was shivering, so it was a super quick bath. That's when our pile of "clothes that have been puked on" began. I put some new pajamas on him, stripped my bed, added the sheets to the pile, and then he puked. Again. All over my clean sweater and his clean pajamas. After we changed again I grabbed a pile of clean clothes for the both of us, grabbed his potty and a cup of Pedialyte, and we cuddled on the couch.
We watched Elf. He puked more, I tried my best to dangle him over his potty. He fell asleep at the end of Elf. I turned on Four Christmases and fell asleep for a little. We both woke up, he puked more, cuddles, puke, cuddles, puke.
He wanted to nurse, but when I did let him, he projectile vomited. After the projectile vomiting, he didn't puke anymore.
The weird thing is is that he didn't act sick, he acted normal and when he puked he was so... nonchalant about it. We spent the rest of the day cuddling and luckily we got a nap in and he ate some crackers. His appetite still wasn't back to normal today, and he never ran a fever, so who knows what was wrong, just a stomach bug I reckon.
That night, I was angry about being a single mom. I had no one to help me out or give me a hand, but I did the best I could and took care of him. It's one of those hurdles that was bound to be crossed eventually.
Our pile of laundry ended up filling the washing machine completely and I washed it twice.
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