I probably should have knocked on wood after I wrote up such a lovely birthday post for Logan, talking about how he had turned a corner with the meltdowns and was handling his feelings a little bit more appropriately. Either I had totally selective memory while I was caught up in my birthday nostalgia, or I totally jinxed myself.
I wrote the first half of that post the day before his birthday, but by the time I had written the rest and was ready to post, he was already proclaiming his day ruined and he was having the worst birthday ever. Dramatic much? And this is what happened when I dared to ask for a photo with the child I birthed from my loins 7 years ago on that day.
How dare I?!?
Unfortunately, during a total cluster of a time trying to get a tantruming Lorelai down for her nap, Logan got yelled at (not by me! Orange Rhino FTW!). And even though I tried to calmly remedy the situation, it spiraled out of control. He stormed up to his room, said he was going to throw away all his presents, and said all kinds of hurtful things to me like "you don't love me! You never love me!" It was certainly nowhere near as bad as his temper tantrums have gotten in the past, but it was extra hurtful because it was on such a special day, and I truly, honestly, was nothing but sweet and comforting to him when he got upset. (Side note: I'm giving myself mad props for not having any kind of mental breakdown or screaming match from all of the tantrums going on. Deep breaths...)
On the plus side, he came out of it fairly quickly, and was all better by the time his cousins came over so they could enjoy some quality time eating pizza and brownies and playing Skylanders on the Wii.
But...BUT! It wasn't all sunshine and birthday unicorns from there on out. By 9pm, he was writhing in pain on the bathroom floor with a horrible stomach ache, and then proceeded to puke up his entire dessert. Because of course. Of course Logan couldn't have been spared, on his birthday no less, from the vomit that has plagued our house for what was now the 3rd weekend in a row. First Lorelai, then Aidan. I should have seen it coming for Logan from a mile away. Sure, I think it had much more to do with the 3 chocolate donuts, a few slices of pizza and one monster-sized birthday brownie he scarfed down over the course of the day as opposed to whatever Lorelai and Aidan had. But still. 3 kids, 3 weekends of puke. Lovely.
We're all better now, so if Adam and I can make it through this weekend without either of us throwing up, maybe our "lucky" streak will be broken. Fingers crossed. Toilet bowls thoroughly cleaned, just in case. :)
PS: I have to say that I really do think Logan has turned that corner. And no matter what this post sounds like in my effort to document our reality--both the good and the bad--I meant every single heartfelt word I said about him. Just in case that didn't go without saying.
PPS: For the record--he done went crazy again this morning when I asked him to be more helpful like Aidan. Apparently what he heard was "I hate you, Logan." Sigh.