Scott and Zephyr at the Gas Station en route to our new abodeMoving out of our house in Cedar was, to say the least, painfully comical. Apparently I was in denial as to how much work was still needed to move. Scott had moved about 90% of the house (which took the whole month of June) before the Sunday and Monday of the big move. So I thought it would be no big deal to get out of there being newly postpartum, with a newborn and 4 kids.
Let me back up a bit. I had two due dates with Zephyr. The first was June 6. The second due date, which we moved because the ultrasound indicated that maybe we were off, was June 18. So, in my head I thought June 10th was good. It was Athena's birthday (saves me from remembering 2 dates) and it was a Sunday, and I love Sunday births. After the first 2 dates came and went, I just let it go. Whatever, what do I know. I've driven myself crazy about a due date before, and I wasn't going to do that again. Scott on the other hand was a caged animal. The sooner the better was his reasoning, and try as he might (and believe me, he tried) he just couldn't convince the Lord to send the baby when Scott wanted him to. Huh, imagine that.
When I did have the baby, we (meaning Scott) knew we (meaning he) had 8 days to get us out of there, and that included being gone working on 5 of those days. Now, back to my first paragraph. Because I thought I was a Superfriend (Wonder Woman with my 'To Tell the Truth Lasso' to be exact), I told my friends, ward, RS ladies....nah, we won't need any help moving, we're just about done anyway. I am so grateful that every single one of them ignored me. My friend Kristin showed up Sunday and got a ton packed. Then on Monday about 5 ladies from the ward came and did the rest, AND spring cleaned the house.
What I would have done had they not come is probably fallen over dead (tender mercy number 5 billion), because starting Friday night was musical pukes. Sage hadn't been feeling good all day, but she was really looking forward to going to get pizza with my friend Aimee Fawson. She took the three little girls, and they come back 45 minutes later, which was a little quick, I thought. I'm told Sage felt horrible, so they cut it short. Not more than 10 minutes after she dropped them home was I racing, baby firmly attached to boob, to get Sage something to throw up in. My poor mother wanted to help, but she had just gotten over a bad flu and was super paranoid about getting it again. So she did what she could bring herself to help with, but I could tell she was scared to death, so I gave her baby duty while I set Sage up. I had Sage veg all of Saturday, and she was feeling good, didn't throw up again, so I thought 'phew! It was a one time deal, must have been something she ate.' She goes to church Sunday, totally fine and then 11 pm rolls around and I was laying down on a blow up mattress because Scott had packed all the bed furniture, and I'm trying to get Sage and Athena to drift off to la la land. Then I hear
"Mom, I don't feel good".
"What do you mean?"
"I think I'm going to......bletch, bluh, glug, bletch"
All over my foot. I feel bad about it now, but at the time it seemed completely reasonable to yell
"NO!!!!!! Come on! Are you serious?!!!! Sage, please stop puking on me and run to the bathroom."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean.....blethch, bluh, glug"
So, with a week old baby I drift to sleep at 12:30 am to the smell of puke in my room and a 6 year old with a bowl under her check next to my "bed". She threw up once more in the night, and once before she got a blessing that morning, and now entering stage left is......Athena. On Saturday Athena's lathargic, not lookin to hot. We have all the clothes packed (I mean ALL, except what we're wearing), the blow up mattress is the only 'furniture' left for pukey Sage to lay on and Athena lays down next to her and puke just flows out of her mouth. I look heavenward "Really?!? This is how it's going to go?" Aimee Fawson is there, luckily, and gets baby duty while I clean up Athena. I wasn't about to travel with a bag full of pukey clothes and no washer/dryer to clean them with when we got there, so I painstakingly decided my only choice was to throw her clothes out. Aimee volunteers to loan us some clothes of their little girl's, which Athena promptly threw up on when I got them on her. Then our neighbor Ginger loans us some of her 4 yo's clothes. I cross my fingers "Please!!!!! Just let us make the drive without her ruining these clothes."
So, we finally get everyone loaded in the car, we head to our friend's house for another blessing for Athena, and we head out of Cedar, at 9 pm, with 2 puke bowls, lots of wipes and paper towels. I'm driving the van, Scott's ahead of me in the moving van. One hour into the drive, I call his cell,
"Pull over! You gotta help me, Athena is puking again." Scott handled it very well, especially for having had load up and pack the entire weekend after working and commuting.
Alright, she didn't get it on her clothes...hooray, let's get moving again. One hour later, I'm on the phone with Lorelee, who's keeping me energized and peppy, when I hear from ELLIE...
"Mom, I don't feel good."
"Are you for real?!!!" As I look heavenward, "Are you serious?!?"
"Sage, hand Ellie your bowl."
By this time, Sage was feeling stable. For that I was grateful, but not so happy when a half hour later I say "Lorelee, I gotta go, Ellie's puking now."
I call Scott, "You gotta pull over and help me with Ellie now."
Again, I'm impressed that he's so patient with them, cause I just start laughing. If I didn't I was going to cry.
"Mom, it's not funny, quit laughing."
So that was the last throw up (I think), until a few days later when I got a small touch of it, and then the next day Scott did, but he got it worse than I did. Luckily, Roma and Zephyr got off without having anything!!!!
Gratefully and mercifully, my best friend's sister, Teresa, showed up with a team of people to help us unload our truck the next morning. Again, we would have been in the crapper had they not just shown up and did it all for/with us. Not to mention she got me mostly unpacked. Tender mercy #5 billion and 50.
So, go ahead and comment....you got anything to top that?! Really?!?
This has been 'Really?!? With Scott and Amy'
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