One sick puppy

All last week (starting the 10th) Etta was sick. I won't go into too many gory details though. On Tuesday the 11th we went in to visit our new pediatrician (long story) and she got two shots. Wednesday seemed to be a bit better but...on Thursday the 13th she was very lethargic all day long and just wanted to lay on one of us. Didn't eat much and slept quite a bit.

Friday morning she seemed to be doing much better. Perfect! We were packing up to leave for Bozeman for a quick trip to the cabin. Since she was so chipper when she got up I decided that I would let her have milk with breakfast since she hadn't had ANY milk for two days.

[Okay, okay, okay. Go ahead all you moms out there. Say it. Say it out loud. Leave comments. "No milk for sick babies!"]

About ten minutes before we were supposed to leave Bob yells from the living room, "Em! Come quick!" I go running in to see the gigantic pond of puke all over the floor. Off to the Urgent Care we went. Normally I wouldn't have gone, but since we were going on a trip...

"My grand daughter had that a couple of weeks ago. Her ears look clear and she's not running a temp. Keep her hydrated and everything should be fine." With that advice from the doctor off we went.

Stopped in Coeur d'Alene for a potty break and potty she did. Right through her first outfit. Well, puke, poop, we should be good to go.

About ten miles out of town as we are hurdling down the Interstate we hear a funny sloshing sound. Much like when Etta shakes her water bottle. Unfortunately that was not the case. Throw up ev. 'ry. where. Pull over. Stand in the cold wind and initial drops of rain and try to strip a sick, unhappy baby. Wipe up the chair and everywhere else that we can see "stuff". Squish her back in the car and drive like Hell.

By the time we got to Bozeman we had gone through all three of the emergency outfits in the diaper bag and had to haul the suitcase out and find one more. Thankfully we were going somewhere with running water and a washer and dryer. Thank God for the little things.

The next day (Saturday) she wasn't doing much better. Couldn't keep down the water and little bit of bread that we tried for breakfast. Didn't want to drink water, 7-Up, Ginger Ale, pedialyte...nothing. Finally bought a box of Popsicles. That seemed to do the trick.

Sunday she was still very cuddly and not much for walking. So much for showing off, I mean, being her cute, natural self, for the relatives that we see once a year. But they have all been there and understood.

For the most part Etta just wanted to be with Bob or I the entire time. She did sleep on Montana Grandma for a little while, but wouldn't let Uncle Erik anywhere near her.

Incredibly at one point she decided she was done being anti-social. Picked up her favorite book and headed off to read with Rick.

Am I sure that this guy is okay?



I'm scowling because I don't feel good...