The ER and I are BFFs.

Ezra appears to be prone to stomach bugs. Henry started this one. HE threw up once and whined the rest of the day.

Ezra got it the next day and threw up more times than I could count.

This is bad enough. Then you pair that with a boy who at 19 months weighed in at less than the 5th percentile at a whopping 21.4 lbs, and you get trouble.



TOOOOO skinny + nothings staying down makes for a nervous mama, squirting 1cc of water down your throat every five minutes all night long.

Then you add in a delightful Utah holiday called Pioneer Day in the which everyone uses up their leftover fireworks until midnight, thus awakening your 3 year old Oliver putting him into terrified hysterics and you got yourself a party.



NOT PICTURED: The dog cowering on my bedroom floor as well, terrified that WWIII had begun right outside our house. STUPID FIREWORKS.

Super fun, right?

I thought Ezra was improving, he managed to hold down small sips of water and tiny bites of rice for an hour, but then, no, everything that went in came right back out.

So, at 2:30 this morning, I said, "That's it. You throw up one more time and we're going to the doctor."

He answered by horfing the tiny bit of water he'd had onto my lap.

And so, to the ER went. I live there, apparently.

I was worried IV fluids were in his future, but no, ZOFRAN THE MIRACLE DRUG did the trick. Half a pill, dissolved in his cheek and he was eating jello and popcicles like a pro.

Mama is grateful. Today, we're hydrating with Otter Pops.

I am super tired of stomach bugs.