I have all kinds of wonderful things to say about my trip to New Mexico. I want to tell you about Jack’s birthday (5!), my sister and her partner’s graduation from med school, seeing a whole slew of boy cousins playing together, and having fun with friends and relatives.
I want to tell you all about that, but not right now.
The days we spent in Albuquerque were fantastic. The nights? Not so much.
Our first night was mostly a harsh lesson in how to fit five people into two full-size beds. Especially when it turns out that your six year old is, like, human being sized. When did he get so big?
I was in a bed with Sam and Quinn and Alex slept with Jack. Partway through the night, I figured I would get more sleep if I moved so that my head was at the foot of the bed. Consequently I spent the rest of that night getting kicked in the face.
At some point I tossed Jack in with his brothers and tried to move into Alex’s bed, but it didn’t stick. Jack came back, leaving us with even less room.
It was kinda lame. Unfortunately, night number two had me wishing for the golden days of night number one.
Night number two started well. All three kids fell asleep in the same bed. Alex drifted off in the other bed. I was happily taking advantage of the free wi-fi when I noticed Sam gurgling and flailing his arms in the air.
Because what’s a vacation without a little bit of vomit?
We cleaned the sad little dude up, piled the soiled comforter and his tainted blanket in the bathroom, and I sacrificed my sweater to keep him warm. I thought we were done. Little did I know.
Sam puked more times over the course of the next five hours than any of my kids have ever puked in a 24-hour period. We used every single towel and washcloth in that hotel room cleaning up puke. Every time we thought we were done, he would throw up again. It was incredibly sad.
I think it was about midnight when Sam wistfully looked at our clean bed and asked to sleep in it. Nicer parents might have let him. That’s all I have to say about that.
We were up and down pretty regularly after that. Alex and my relatively spacious bed was invaded by Quinn, leading me to resort to head to toe sleeping again.
I think it might have been 4 a.m. when we realized that, although our chain lock was locked, our door had drifted open. Nice.
We never did figure out what caused Sam’s episode. His head hurt for a while the next day, but then he fully recovered. We think maybe a mixture of the altitude change and dehydration took him down.
And, honestly, there were three or four other health crises/sicknesses/emergencies over the weekend that I haven’t even bothered to mention. My sister and her son spent the night in the ER. I had to make an emergency call to one of my hometown doctors. Everyone had a cold. It was seriously The Plague Vacation for us.
So now it is 9:30 p.m. on night number three. Everyone seems to be asleep but me. There are three kids nestled into one bed, and there is a big empty space waiting for me in the grown-up bed. I’m wondering what the night will bring me…rest and relaxation so I’m ready to travel home tomorrow? Or some new and as yet unexperienced plague?
I’m not a praying gal, but seriously: Pray for me.