Today was a miserable day.
I had warned Steph at bedtime last night that I was feeling off. At 3:00 this morning, I found out how off I was. (Don’t worry, Miss G. I won’t say that I was vomiting.)
I had a sleepless rest of the night. Steph and Anne left at 7:00 again for Spanish school. I dragged myself to the couch and remainded there for the duration of the day, excepting bathroom breaks.
Abbey and Dane did great at taking care of me. I was dozing on the couch while Abbey got the boys fed breakfast. Dane woke me up and handed me a cup of hot, liquid jello he had made for me. I didn’t know he knew how to do that.
He said if I drank it, I’d feel better. I took one sip and immediately regretted it as my stomach reminded me it was in control and nothing was allowed down.
Juanito brought me a bottle of Sprite and told me it would make my stomach better. I told him I didn’t feel like drinking anything. He cheerfully announced that he could drink it for me! I suspect this was part of his plan all along.
The children did the chores and cleaned up the kitchen. I occasionally gave directives from the infirmary. There was wash to fold from yesterday, which they finished by lunch.
Beulah had offered to watch Seth, but I thought I could keep an eye on him. I woke up to find no children downstairs. Seth was in the girls’ room with a fistful of crayons, I was told.
I still don’t know what damage he did. I had Abbey cart him off to Beulah for the rest of the day, and I went back to sleep.
Abbey made Ramen noodles for lunch all by herself. She was rather proud of the fact. I tried eating and made it through half a bowl before I was feeling horrible all over again. I did keep a cup of tea down.
Steph made it home after 4:00. She went hunting for eggs with the children because they hadn’t found any today. She found twenty-eight. Moms are amazing that way.
She made tomato soup for supper. I ate some, and I don’t feel like dying, so that is a dramatic improvement. Hopefully, this was just a passing thing.
Rafael checked up on me today, as he often does. I told him my condition. He wondered if I had eaten something bad. I told him not unless someone was secretly poisoning me.
He switched from texting to a phone call. He assured me no one was poisoning me, chided me for eating cheese and milk in the evenings, and told me to drink “bastante mate,” (lots of tea). When he felt confident that I was taken care of, he let me go with a promise of checking on me tomorrow.
I have eaten no milk or cheese, nor have I seen anyone sneaking stuff into my food, so he should be happy.
I guess this is what comes of doing so much laundry yesterday.
Juan David 