Santa, Postponed

Olivia is finally at the age where she remembers. She remembers when I tell her we can play outside after lunch, and that tomorrow she’s going to daycare, and when Daddy promises her she can have chocolate when she wakes up from her nap.

We’ve been talking about going to see Santa this past weekend for two weeks now. Last year, she was willing to sit in the vicinity of Santa, but NOT next to him. This year, who knows, she probably wouldn’t have sat on his lap anyway, but she sure knew that she was supposed to ask Santa for a present.

For her birthday, since she has been so into PJ Masks, I got her an Owlette that talks and lights up. She’s been saying she wants to ask Santa for Gecko as well. She hasn’t wavered much, so I’m now needing to start looking for a damn Gecko for her which is overpriced, but she’s mah babybee and all.

Santa was going to be at Chris’s holiday work party, one they have every year. This year there was going to be crepes, a hot chocolate bar, two people making balloon animals, two people doing face paintings, a big holiday backdrop for family photos, and crafts. I was really looking forward to it. Like, really looking forward to it. Maybe it was the free food. Maybe it was to see the joy on my daughter’s face when she saw Santa.

OK, it was the free food.

Olivia woke up saying her tummy was hurting Saturday morning and she says this a lot and can mean a few different things. She’s hungry, she has to poop, or she’s going to hurl.

After a few times of her saying it, I had a bad feeling we weren’t going to the party. I showered, prepped my breakfast, and sat on the couch across from Olivia. She said her tummy hurt again and WHAM. Puke.

Fuck. Me.

Luckily, it wasn’t a lot at all, but I was disappointed, you guys. Like, selfishly disappointed. Also, my anxiety started raging and Chris had to hang with her for a few hours while I sat downstairs and watched TV to distract myself. I’ve been off the Effexor since before this last transfer, but I was really wishing I was on it now. I had lorazepam to take if I needed it, but I was trying to avoid that (Mental note—you should have taken the medication, dummy).

I gave her some crackers for lunch since she hadn’t thrown up since 8:30. I choked down my own lunch.

“We go see Santa?” Chris and I heard her ask from the living room, as I was throwing the dishes in the sink washing the dishes.

“Honey, I’m sorry, but we missed Santa. You’re sick.”

She looked up at Chris, sadly, “I missed him?”

My heart shattered. I told her how sorry we were and that we would go see Santa at the mall (Not that I was looking forward to standing in line at the mall at all). But I was so sad for her.

Before kids, when I was angry and bitter about not getting pregnant, I would roll my eyes at parents who said seeing their kids sick was the worst. That you just felt so helpless.

Oh seriously. Kids get sick, I used to think, stop being so dramatic.

I’m that dramatic parent now. I get it. Because Olivia laying on the couch, looking exceptionally tiny and pathetic, was the worst. I felt so helpless. True, I wanted to roll my eyes at myself for being so dramatic, but hey, we were all looking forward to this holiday party.

Chris made all of us some spiced tea, a big pot of it that sits on the stove on warm and takes us hours to drink it all. Olivia had some and thought it was delicious. She especially loved drinking it from her snowman mug she got last year from the holiday party.

She took a long nap and I thought the worst was behind us until she barfed again at 5:00 and 2-3 more times after that. All in all, it could have been worse. She’s been known to throw up 10-12 times every ten minutes. I know, because last year she had a stomach bug six times in eight months and it drove to me to therapy.

I wish I could say I took it like a champ, but I didn’t. In fact, when she finally went to bed for the night around 8:30 I burst into tears as soon as I walked back downstairs to Chris. I was so mentally exhausted. This puke anxiety is the worst. It’s awful, you guys.

Anyway, Santa had to be postponed so we’ll have to figure that out. As a Lazy Parent, I was hoping we could just do this all at the party, but now, I have to find a Santa.