Holden Beach or Bust

We made it to our vacation destination, Holden Beach, NC...but not without drama abound, much of which made me think maybe we shouldn't even go. Like, maybe God was trying to tell us we shouldn't go.

It all started Friday when I picked the boys up from day care. The baby's "teacher" told me that he had 6 BMs that day. I was actually surprised that they didn't call me, as the week before they did the Friday before. Especially since, as the teacher told me, "it was mucousy."

Anyhow, S. was pretty sleepy in the evening and didn't really want to eat all that much. Obviously a good sign. I put him to bed at 9:30 and started to pack.

A little while later, I checked on him and realized that he had projectile vomited all over himself. He was freezing cold, which scared the bejeezus out of me. He seemed pretty lethargic and while he didn't have a fever, I was very afraid he was getting dehydrated. The hubby told me not to worry because he ate.

About an hour later, S. started projectile vomiting again. At this point, I wasn't hearing anyone. I was taking my baby to the ER.

Miraculously, by the time I got there, the color started coming back to his face. I almost left, especially since I was a little freaked out by the woman in the waiting room who was screaming and crying, but alas, they called S.'s name, so I decided to have him checked out.

We ended up staying until 3:30 am. I definitely can't fault them for being thorough! They did bloodwork, took a stool culture, and gave him an IV. Turned out his bloodwork was completely normal (no dehydration). I'll find out on Monday about his stool culture. I'm still glad I went.

Okay, so operating on 3 hours of sleep, I finished packing and got the kids ready. Thinking about a road trip with a diarrhea and vomit inflicted baby was not something I was excited about. Luckily, we had a Zofran script from the week prior to cancel out one of the issues.

So anyhow, while we were getting ready, J. was playing on the stairs. I told him to stop and he did. As he walked down the second flight though, he lost his footing and fell down the stairs, flipping and landing on his back on the wood floor below. I stood above him holding the baby and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. It was one of the scariest moments of my life, bar none! Luckily (and again, a miracle), he was not hurt. I, on the other hand, was so freaked out that I couldn't talk about it for the rest of the day without crying.

I was still reeling from that episode when S. projectile vomited on me.

Anyhow, somehow we made it out of the house and got on the road. It took us 9 hours to make a 7 hour trip, but we. are. here! Mind you, we had to endure hours and hours of J.'s "are we there yet?" and kicking my seat, but somehow, by the grace of God, we made it.

Now, I am looking at the ocean, and feeling a lot more relaxed. Life is better!