How many sips does it take to get to the bottom of a 32-ounce bottle of blue Gatorade?

For those of you following the drama, our trip to the doctor today revealed that Emily has gastroenteritis, a.k.a. the stomach flu. It's a virus, so medicine won't help, but supposedly it'll work its way out on its own. Really the only worry is avoiding dehydration.

On the way to the doctor, Emily threw up in the car (her sixth bout), but luckily I'd had the forethought to put a towel down under her car seat. However, I did forget to bring along a change of clothes for her, so she had to stay damp.

The doctor wrote us a perscription for Phenergan which helps curb vomiting, but he cautioned us not to use it unless we really needed to, since it makes people sleepy and it's been known to cause babies to stop breathing. Instead, he recommended that we simply stick to Gatorade and then the BRAT diet. Here's the fun part: Because of Emily's vomiting, she probably won't keep anything down, so he said I should give her two teaspoonfuls of Gatorade at 10-minute intervals.

I don't know if you can conceptualize the size of two teaspoonfuls of liquid, but it's pretty dang small. To avoid making it seem like I was trying to give her medicine, I poured the teaspoons into a cup for Emily. She drank the meager portion eagerly and said, "This is so good! May I have some more?" It was tough explaining to her that she had to wait 10 minutes before her next sip. It was tougher still listening to her ask "Is it 10 minutes yet?" every 2 minutes or so for the next hour. I was thrilled when we graduated to saltines.

By this evening, Emily was acting like everything was fine. She went outside to swing and help me water the plants. She hasn't had any more epsidodes of vomiting since we visited Misty at work on the way home from the doctor's office. Misty picked Emily up for a hug, and almost immediately Emily threw up on her. At least she was wearing scrubs.

Yuck

Only two days have passed since Emily returned to day care, and already she's sick. She woke up crying around 1:30 this morning, and I came downstairs to find her in a puddle of vomit. She'd thrown up in her bed so it was all over the sheets, the pillow, her pajamas, and her hair. And, of course, when I scooped her up to carry her into the bathroom, it got all over me too. Miraculously, the three stuffed animals that she likes to sleep with managed to avoid the mess.

After a bath and tooth brushing, Misty and I brought Emily upstairs to sleep in the guest room. She wanted one of us to sleep with her, so I volunteered. I knew I probably wouldn't sleep, but I also knew that since Misty only returned to work two days ago, it would be easier for me to get the day off. She'd need sleep more than me. I was right, too. For three hours Emily kicked me in the groin and smacked me in the face as she flopped around in bed. I don't know how she stays asleep while moving around that much.

At 5 a.m. I headed back to my own bedroom, figuring that something must have just disagreed with her stomach and that the worst was over. Within 10 minutes, she was throwing up again. Another set of sheets went in the washing machine. She's thrown up a couple more times since then, too.

Now I'm just waiting for the pediatrician's office to open so I can get her over there. Emily's been watching cartoons while I worked online. At one point on Little Einsteins, the kids asked the audience to sing along to help them out and Emily said, "But I don't want to sing; I don't feel good."

A good, old-fashioned book burning

You think it's hot here? It's 451 degrees in Kansas City.

Tom Wayne amassed thousands of books in a warehouse during the 10 years he has run his used book store, Prospero's Books. His collection ranges from best sellers like Tom Clancy's "The Hunt for Red October" and Tom Wolfe's "Bonfire of the Vanities," to obscure titles like a bound report from the Fourth Pan-American Conference held in Buenos Aires in 1910. But wanting to thin out his collection, he found he couldn't even give away books to libraries or thrift shops, which said they were full. So on Sunday, Wayne began burning his books [to] protest what he sees as society's diminishing support for the printed word.

Apparently, Wayne said that "not reading a book is just as good as burning it." I can't decide if the guy's a hero or a villian.

File this under "things I never expected to hear"

Sorry I haven't written anything in a while. I'd love to post more often, but I'm too busy at work and too busy at home. Nevertheless, I couldn't let this go undocumented...

While brushing my teeth this morning, I heard Misty get out of bed and say, "Kendall left a hickey on my boob!"