Me and Jakey McGee

Sick day today. No, I'm feeling fine. Jake's sick. Coughing so hard he's throwing up - all the time. Hasn't had a real meal in something like 48 hours. Already been to doctor, to Children's for a chest x-ray (they think there might be someting "more" going on ... words from a doctor you never, ever want to hear).

And so now he's home with me. We probably could have shuffled him off to daycare but good Lord, how much can a 14-month-old take? And they have this rule about throwing up: If he does it there, he can't come back for at least 24 hours. Makes sense if you think it through.

But boy does it make it tough on parents who work. I can't quite recall the last time I had a "sick day" that was truly just a day when I was sick, home alone. When it's just me who's sick, it's usually time for "Rub some dirt on it son and get back in the game." Life of a Dad, I suppose. Heidi's certainly done more of these days than I have (covering all days during campaign and my first weeks in the new job). But she has a big conference today and my boss is out of town so, hopefully, the office will be quiet.

So Jake's night went something like this:
7 p.m. - bed
9:45 p.m. - up and crying (right at the end of '24' ... which we missed part of)
midnight - up and crying
4:45 a.m. - up and crying
530 a.m. - up for good.

Then his morning's been something like this:
545 am - dressed by dripping wet Mom, who cut short her shower to get the boy.
547 am - crying because he had to be put down so Owen could get dressed
6 am - first attempt at breakfast (failed)
615 am - a bottle of milk
618 am - coughing
618:30 am - coughing worse
619 am - puking all over Daddy in his nicely-pressed shirt
620 am - Daddy pulls the plug on the day, puts on a flannel
635 am - second attempt at breakfast (half a banana)
640 - 7 am - assorted play/crying/bullying with Owen
7 am - Owen and Mom leave
700:01 am - crying (see previous entry)
700:02 am - Daddy realizes he's in for a long day
704 am - third attempt at breakfast (about four bites of Daddy's oatmeal)
705 - 720 am - good, quiet playtime with blocks
720 - 745 am - The Chase-Me-Around-the-House-While-I-Get-Into-Bad-Things-Like-Garbage-Cans-Bathtubs-And-Laundry Game. A classic.
750 am - fourth attempt at breakfast (failed)
755 - 810 am - assorted play
810 am - attempt to find favored toy under Owen's train table goes horribly wrong when Jake tries to stand up (under the train table).
810 - present - attempt to put Jake down for morning nap

He's only interrupted me with tears three times while writing this item. Now, the only sound in the house is the two pairs of kids overalls with other assorted laundry (and said nice shirt) clinking in the dryer and "Me and Bobby McGee" echoing out of the "mellow" mix on the iPod.

Happy kid means happy parent and, on sick days, quiet kid means happy parent. I better go get the papers, get the papers.

UPDATE: 645 p.m. The wife has now taken Jake off to the doctor as his condition worsened throughout the day. I'm now on Owen detail - which is markedly easier. All in all, though, Jake was a champ. Sick as a dog but still managing to melt my cold, black heart about a dozen times throughout the day. And, somewhere in there, I was able to read the papers, take a couple press calls for work, listen to some chill tunes on the "mellow" mix and even read a bit of my book. Not bad for Dad duty.