The Robbed Vacation

After our 18-month old was done with her stomach bug, it was my turn. We were on day 3 of what was supposedly our vacation. At 9am, I had a work call on a student matter that couldn’t be postponed until after my vacation. At the end of that meeting, I stayed on with a colleague for a few minutes. She asked me if everything was alright. Because I looked a little off, and my background looked like I was in the hospital. I might as well be, I thought. I told her about the stomach bug being passed on from my husband to our little one and that I was starting to feel queasy as well.

After the meeting, I managed to get up to the mountain, even though it was smoky due to the forest fires. We really wanted to get in our 2k hike at the top of the mountain. And so we did. Even though I had to run into the restaurant at the top for diet cokes to ease my growing nausea. Fortunately, our little one stayed awake during the bike ride back home, and she took a proper nap (meaning I could as well). This was certainly a day to count each win, however small.

By the evening, there was no denying that the bug had found a way to my stomach as well. Unfortunately, my little one had developed a strong mommy preference in the past week. The timing could have been better, also of the unusual fight she put up to go to sleep. It took 1.5 hours to get her down, a true record. While singing lullabies, and thinking of what could be wrong with her, I was trying not to vomit over her.

On Tuesday morning, we decided to give up on this vacation. We were going to drive home during nap time. The rain had started last night, and would continue on Wednesday and Thursday. Whereas this was fantastic news for the forest fires, it was less optimal for our vacation. More importantly, with my lack of energy, and my daughter’s clinginess to me, I did not foresee a very successful time up here. Lots of crying while my husband tried to take her on little outings while I rested inside were in our future.

The drive home was perfectly in line with the vacation-gone-sour mode we were already in. Another record of two hours of fussiness, crying, or restlessness. I sat on the backseat beside our daughter and sang and sang, until I half fell asleep during her protests. The next morning, we dropped her off at daycare at 8am. She was happy as a clam as she walked over to her friends. My husband and I admitted that it was the first time ever that we were happy to drop her off and have a reprieve for eight hours.

My husband did chores around the house and announced proudly that he had already crossed off three items on his to-do list. I tried to stay busy with email and an online course to get the hang of WordPress, but eventually caved and rested on the couch. In the afternoon, we received pictures of our daughter, dancing at the daycare’s music lesson. We made the right decision. Everyone was happy now that this vacation had ended.