Not for those with weak stomachs…


Some days being a mom is less glamorous than others.  I woke up bright and early this morning trying to clean up the house after Dillon's punk rock birthday party last night.  From 7am to 9:30am I made quite a bit of progress on the dishes and laundry, etc.  At 9:45 I decided to wake up the kids, who were still totally zonked out from staying up until 10pm the night before.  

Before you read further, I have to note that readers with weak stomachs just might want to skip this post altogether and wait until I post something shiny and happy on another day.

…so I have to wake the kids up because I am supposed to meet someone at work, and I have to shlep the kids, and their aunt Anna with to my work in order to make this happen, because Rose will still not let me leave her anywhere.  Which is fine, but it requires everyone to get out of bed so we can pick up Anna after her diving/swim practice and get to my work by 11am.  And I walk into the kids room, they are both still sound asleep.  But I notice something all over Rose.  And a thousand terrible scenarios play through my head as I start freaking out.  And I raise the shades to the room and realize that there is neon orange vomit (that is more or less the consistency of play dough) all over my child and her bed.  I must say something out loud at this point, because both kids wake up.  I instruct Dillon to stay put in the top bunk, grab Rose and put her on the potty.  Dillon ignores me, so then I instruct him to watch his sister on the potty while I assess the situation in the bed, I am trying to figure out if I should call the doctor.

It looks terrible, but I throw everything down the laundry chute and run a bath, Dillon is watching his sister but also laughing at her because her hair is neon orange.  I should probably mention at this point that the only thing Rose ate after 3pm the day before was cheese and peanut butter sandwich crackers, you know, the obscenely orange ones.  They are her favorite, and she was pretty much on a hunger strike at the party and I couldn't get her to eat ANYTHING.  So she ate two packages of those, about 12 crackers, including one that Dharma got.

So I tell Dillon not to laugh while I give her a bath and wash her hair.  She looks miserable.  I am sure she feels miserable too.  I can not imagine how this child threw up so much without Chuck or I hearing and I am considering calling Child Protective Services on us.  When I get her out of the tub I just wrap her in her froggy towel and all she wants to do is hang out and have me cuddle her.  She won't let me dress her.  I call Chuck to let him know what's up, and ask him to pick up Anna who will be waiting for me outside her swim practice.  

He does, and he brings Anna back with some bananas, which is the one fruit that Rose will eat and I have heard they are easy to digest (being part of the BRAT diet and all that).  I assume she was sick during the night, so I figure we could try to let her eat some banana, see if she can keep it down.  Long story short, she can't.  But the positive side of that is that I find out that she is the world's quietest puker.  The child does not make one sound.  So I don't feel as bad about not hearing her in the middle of the night.

So we spent the day in a quiet state, mostly laying around.  I felt terrible because Rose was obviously unhappy and uncomfortable, but unable to express if there was anything I could do for her.  She was mostly content to be held the entire day.  

We hadn't opened D's presents at the party, so we had a great day of leisurely opening them and having plenty of time to play with each one before moving on to the next gift.  He had a good time, and Anna stuck around to help out because I pretty much had my hands full.  

Finally Rose kept some food down.  Believe it or not, she ate a good chunk of Dillon's leftover birthday cake (some may wonder what I was thinking letting her have it, but I was a champion puker as a kid between being a picky eater and hypoglycemic, but I know what it's like to have a yen for something after being sick, so I'm a soft touch in that department).  But the fact that she wanted the cake was extra-surprising to me because Rose hates all sweets.  After trying ice cream, chocolate cake, muffins, cookies, etc., she has made a face like she believed I was poisoning her.  But the cake was a hit.  And after she kept the cake down for a couple hours, I let her eat two more pieces of it, and then she ate three banana bread waffles.  So hopefully, she's feeling better!   

It's when you are on your hands and knees under a table cleaning up a puddle of banana-puke that you think, how did my life bring me here?  I remember, despite dealing with my own puke pretty well (I pretty much made it to the bathroom every time after I was about 4), sort of being a sympathetic vomiter and not really wanting to get near other folks.  Particularly in college, I would be right there if you needed some 7-up, but I'm not going to be in the bathroom with you holding your hair back or what-have-you.

Chuck, on the other hand, is a champion in that regard.  He's held my hair back when I had food poisoning, and when I was in the delivery room having a c-section with Dillon.  And, I've seen him on several occasions catch handfuls of Dillon's puke.  Once, at Baker's Square, he caught D's puke and knocked an entire glass of diet coke into my lap.  It was cold and incredibly unpleasant.  We were in self-imposed Baker's Square exile for a while after that.  Though everyone there was pretty nice to us and they didn't make us pay the bill (our food hadn't gotten there yet). 

I haven't ever had the urge to catch my child's puke in anything that couldn't be put in the dishwasher or (preferably) disposed of entirely. 

Ah.  The joys of motherhood.  Would I have ever expected  five years and some days ago before my son's birth that I would some day have occasion to type the above sentence?  Who knows…

2 Responses to “Not for those with weak stomachs…”

  1. ccollins says:

    All evidence to the contrary (toxic orange crackers, 2 pieces of cake), our kids eat relatively well.

    As for the hand puke catching, the first time i did it without thinking about it, i just stuck my hand out in from of my boy and caught a handfull of yuck. If you think about it, if you can think about it without tossing your own cookies, it makes sense; What’s easier to clean, the couch/car seat/floor or your hands…

    …man…I’m a little yuck, myself.

  2. Belle says:

    aaahhh…but an impressive yuck!

    i must say that i started feeling a little pukey after reading this post.

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