Public Health NO NO

I should know better, I really should. But who can resist fruit pizza? Apparently, not me. We were invited to two (TWO!) 4th of July BBQ's this past weekend (both invites made through mommy groups, I rock at making friends). For the Sunday affair, I decided to be festive and make a flag-themed fruit pizza (and rushed out the door without taking a picture of it's awesomeness...) We had a great time at the party, Mr. Owen was a sweaty mess but loves to be social and LOVES to watch other kids play. The host insisted we take food home (the same food that sat out in 90 degree heat for 3+ hours), so I loaded up my tray and brought it home and PUT IT IN THE FRIDGE. I. AM. AN IDIOT.

Of course I thought nothing of it when I had another slice (or four) of my delishISH fruit pizza for lunch on Monday.

...Until Tuesday morning at 1am when I was BARFING MY BLOODY BRAINS OUT.

My first thought... Oh shit, I'M PREGNANT!! And you can imagine my relief when a few hours later it started to come out both ends (relief? What?)

(Side note: I definitely want to have another child one day. But not today or any day soon. I need to figure out this child first. And I swear having a baby is the best form of birth control EVER. I've never in my life been more terrified of getting pregnant... and I pretty much have the cutest baby on the planet. Nuff Said.)

Jeremy wakes up to go to work at 4am and finds me rushing to the toilet (for the third time that morning). I walked him out to the kitchen to say goodbye, AND FILLED THE SINK. It was bad, very very bad. Did I mention we don't have a garbage disposal? Right, mega gross. Needless to say this was one of my most challenging days as stay-at-home Mamma yet. Owen is going through a growth spurt right now and trying to master rolling over. As a result, he has been waking every 1-3 hours during the night to eat. During the day he eats about every 1-2 hours. Right. A LOT OF EATING. So with a cranky baby and a dehydrated, pooh-barfing Mamma - I did what any other reasonable woman in my situation would do.

I let my 4 month old son watch TV.

And he loved it.

And I spent the afternoon running back and forth to the bathroom and trying to drink enough fluids to make milk (and not pass out). Finally around 3pm I started to spike fever and I felt like my body was about to collapse... and Jeremy came home early from work with some Gatorade and an anti-nausea prescription. THANK GOD FOR THIS MAN. That prescription was by far the first perk of being a doctor's resident's wife, I only had to VOM for 14 straight hours instead of 24. SCORE.

Owen also gave me a present and slept through the night. The first 7-hr stretch of sleep I've gotten since his birth and went I woke up, I felt awesome - until I realized my chest was about to explode. And I promptly woke my son for a morning milk buffet.

Today I'm barely eating solids and my stomach still feels like I swallowed a mouse trap but at least I made it through. I'm alive, my baby is alive (and could probably tell you the score of Tuesday's FIFA soccer game) and I will NEVER eat bacteria-laden goodies again. EVER.

The end.

(p.s. We had hired a babysitter for Tuesday night to stay with O while we went out for crab for our Anniversary... needless to say... that didn't happen. Ah, life.)