Jason and I woke up early on Saturday morning to head up to the mountains for a day of pre-Valentines skiing. My dad woke up early to watch Hadley early so we could go. (My mom was not far behind.) More than an hour and a half into what should have been an hour-and-a-half-long drive, we were stopped. On the interstate. In snow. Seems we weren't the only geniuses who thought that it would be fun to go ski on a Saturday of a long weekend when the snow was falling.
We listened to the road report and realized that we weren't going to get to Copper for another hour. By the time we got to the bus, schlepped our skis and stuff to the resort and popped on our skis, it would be 11:00. We had to leave between 2:00 and 2:30--and I knew I'd be a nervous wreck all day, worrying that the snow would mean a longer drive home or worse, that we'd get stuck.
So, we turned around. We've never, ever turned around. But we did. And we consoled ourselves by saying that lots of parents have probably had the same experience, lots of parents have been anxious about getting stuck a few hours' drive from their babies, lots of parents have traded something they really wanted to do for their kids. Welcome to parenthood.
We got home, showered and went to a movie: "The Blind Side." Made me very happy. So even though we didn't get to ski, I felt like we had a little pre-V-Day date. We went out to lunch after the movie, and even stopped at one of our favorite dessert spots to get V-Day treats.
A few hours later, I was worshipping at the throne of the porcelain god. Oh, yes. Food poisoning. Bad. Violent. I couldn't nurse Hadley, couldn't even walk. Jason bathed her, put her to bed and tended to me. I was in the bathtub downstairs when he said, "I don't feel well." I admit it: I panicked a little bit. What if what I thought was food poisoning was really the flu? What if Hadley got it, and neither Jason nor I could walk, let alone care for a baby? I remember thinking, "Surely, this isn't going to happen. Surely, Jason and I are not going to be sick simultaneously while our nine-month-old needs us."
Sure enough, around 11:30 last night, while I lay in bed praying I would just fall asleep, I heard Jason (who was sleeping on the couch) run to the bathroom. Two sick parents. Please-oh-please-oh-please, God, don't let Hadley get sick.
Somehow, we made it through the night. Hadley slept, like she (almost) always does, from 7 at night until 5 this morning. She didn't get sick at all, and given how quickly and violently we got sick, I'm sure we had food poisoning. I felt well enough to nurse her at 5:00, but Jason couldn't even stand up. I rocked her for a few minutes and plopped her into her crib, praying that she would go back to sleep. She did, until 7:40. Whew.
It was a good thing that our sicknesses came on about five hours apart--Jason was fine when I first got sick, and I was on the upswing while Jason was still mired in the depths of feeling awful. That's what you call the hunt for the silver lining.
None of us got out of our pajamas today. I called my parents as soon as it wasn't too early, and my dad came over with Saltines, popsicles and Gatorade. He took care of Hadley while Jason and I slept. Then my mom came over tonight and made us chicken noodle soup.
Welcome to parenthood, I keep thinking. We've had tons of fabulous moments, moments when I feel peace and happiness and sheer amazement that I get to be Hadley's mom, that she is ours. But nothing is peachy all of the time, and this weekend, I feel like we earned a few parenting stripes. The day looked really long when I woke up this morning, and I wondered how we'd make it through on almost no sleep, weak bodies and tender stomachs. But we did (with a lot of help from my mom and dad).
So this weekend stunk, but if I were a philosopher with room to contemplate what it all meant (bear with me), I would say that it was a perfect example of what parenthood is: doing your best for a person you love desperately and deeply. And I'm not (really) talking about Jason and me, though we did do our best. I'm talking about my parents, too, who gave up pretty much their whole weekend for us. As my dad says, "Once you're a parent, you're always a parent." That's a good thing, even if it means your adult daughter calls you at 7:45 in the morning begging for help. And Gatorade.
I have no new pictures to post because, well, we didn't quite have the energy to get the camera out this weekend. But I promise more soon.
Finishing my soup and going to BED. G'night.