And although I have two, I am still prone to overreaction as much as the next woman.
You see, Lizzy hurt her neck at the McDonald's PlayPlace last Friday, and after consulting with a friend who is a massage therapist and knows his skeleto-muscular systems, we treated it with ice and heat and rest and coddling, and a little Tylenol at bedtime.
This is not the overreaction in question.
Tonight she went to bed with a minimum of fuss, which she does occasionally. And came trailing out about ten minutes later, saying she had "thwowed up". And oh boy, had she.
This is where the overreaction comes in.
You see, I am not a vomiter. I think the last time I did I was pregnant with Lizzy, which makes it likely about six years ago. Therefore I tend to view vomit as absolutely dire. And my mother is the same way, so our mutual concern got a tiny bit out of hand. This is where the non-vomiter thinks meningitis. Or maybe post-concussion disorder, if she had actually hit her head last Friday (she said not, but she's five, and not a reliable witness).
However, although we were a little carried away, we're also fairly practical people. So I called the consulting nurse at the hospital, rather than - say - packing Lizzy up in her jim-jams and taking her to the E.R. Since she was already in the bathtub by this time, singing tunelessly, "I thwowed up and I can stay up late," I also felt justified in this slightly less-panicked reaction.
The consulting nurse was reassuring, and I caught her laughing several times as she could hear Lizzy in the background, singing her little song and getting impatient with me when I relayed the nurse's questions, like, "Does your tummy still hurt?" or, "Did you hit your head?" The nurse also laughed when I told her that I got her number from the magnet they gave me when I was birthing said baby five-and-a-bit years ago, and said she was relieved that I still have it. No fever, no sore throat, she can touch her chin to her chest. It's okay, she'll be fine.
So either the doses of Tylenol plus Lizzy's first encounter with a crispy bean burrito, in conjunction with a busy preschool day after a weekend of utter sloth causes a one-off, or Lizzy has the stomach flu. The latter would be determined if she keeps throwing up.
She is currently out cold in the little nest I made her on the floor of her room (all her bedding is in the washer and her mattress is damp and airing out). She has a bucket nearby in case of repeat. No school tomorrow, but maybe Grandma's depending on how she feels (I have a lot to do, with job hunting and second-to-last-week of this school session, but if she wants her mommy she gets her mommy). Bland food for a day or two.
I should have realized it was more than her usual "my tummy hurts" (which she generally uses to describe the sensation of over-fullness).
The kid refused an Oreo. That should've been a clue right there.