OK all. Put down those spoons filled with chunky oatmeal, stop dipping into your vanilla yogurt, put away that pan for your scrambled eggs, and don't even think about getting seconds on that custard. Its the one, the only, the VOMIT BLOG!
I have officially been a mom for 4 years, 22 days, 16 hours, 6 minutes, and 32 seconds. I have had to deal with poop on my clothes and in my hair, I have stuck my fingers, toes and even knee's into shit filled diapers. I have been peed on, I have had spit up run down the center of my back, I have had snot in my hair and in between my toes, I have had breast milk literally squirt across a room, however, I have never, ever, ever, had to deal with my child vomiting.
Vomit scares me. The idea of my child vomiting really really scared me. How does it logistically work when they don't know about the toilette, or buckets, or car windows (sorry I slipped back to my 18th year)
My kids have been sick, they have had fever, diarrhea, rashes, snot that wont stop, coughing, but never vomit. I don't know how I managed to get this far.
Yesterday
Afternoon:
Jaxon comes running in from outside yelling "MY STOMACH HURTS SO BAD". So obviously I told him to go sit on the crapper. He did. It didn't help. Hmm..maybe he's hungry? I had plans to get burgers for dinner, a rare treat for me. I had been dreaming about it all day. I probably should have changed my plans considering a burger is not the most easily digestible, non stomach irritating food you can imagine. However, I wanted a burger dammit. So the entire drive to P.Terry's was filled with screams and moans and " I NEED TO POOP! MAYBE? I THINK?" from the backseat. My heart was racing. I felt my time was coming. I was sure of it. We came home and he downed the entire burger and a whole order of fries and I thought, SHIT! I have horrible memories of throwing up Whataburger when I was a kid, OK 16, OK it may have been after a night of underage drinking, point is, it totally sucks throwing up an entire burger. So that was all that was going through my head. However, I was a little less anxious because I knew that he was capable of using a toilette. So I worked out a plan. However, after he scarfed down his burger, he felt better. Crisis diverted...or so I thought.
Oh and did I mention that Bodhi didn't touch is food. Not super uncommon for Bodhi. He rarely eats dinner anyway.
Midnight thirty:
I literally just shut my eyes to go to sleep. A second later, Bodhi starts screaming in his room. Its the HELP ME! scream. The one, where you know either his leg is caught in the crib or he has just fallen out, head first, onto the floor. I run in there, and he is lying in the crib. Crying. The only light on is the nightlight in the corner. I reach in the crib to grab him and it hits me. The unmistakable smell of raunch. I smelt it then I felt it. Of course I stuck my hand in it. I knew right away that my streak was over.
Midnight thirty one:
I turn on the light and cautiously peek inside the crib. He has chunks coming out his mouth. I scream.
Midnight thirty two:
I realize that this is going to take 2 of us. I yell for Justin. Justin walks in, changes his sheets and says " he probably just gagged on something, I'm sure he's fine" RIGHT!
Midnight thirty three:
Barf again, spewing out onto his coveted "night-night". You know, the blanket that he can't live without! I debate for about 2 minutes if I should just let him just have the puke covered blanket or throw it in the wash with the rest of his sheets and clothes. I choose to let it loose, give it the washing machine monster. He SCREAMS! as I pry it out of his cold, vomit soaked hands.
Midnight thirty five:
I devise a plan. A plan that involved every towel and blanket we own. I cover the floors in towels and wrap blankets around both of my arms. My armor so to speak. We lie on the floor. Bodhi's screaming NIGHT! NIGHT!. All he wants his is vomit soaked blanket.
Midnight forty:
I cradle Bodhi, trying to get him to fall asleep, but he wont. He is standing in the center of my fort. I sense its coming....then it happens. The gag followed by the off white chunks. Luckily this time I was armed with a towel. He pukes in the towel, then grabs it to wipe off his face.
One Fifteen:
I am holding Bodhi, and I hear the washing machine stop. I run to the laundry room and grab wet night night. Eff the dryer at this point. He grabs his blanket, stands up and vomits.
One Sixteen:
We clean up, chunk the first layer of blankets and I hold Bodhi in my arms. He falls asleep. My left leg is under my right butt cheek. I try to move it. He cries. I put it back.
Two forty five:
Still with the left leg under my butt. I try to slowly lower myself to the floor. He cries. I sit back up
Three ish:
Still holding Bodhi. My left leg is numb and my neck feels like someone just jabbed a knife into it.
Three thirty:
I manage to lay him down, and I fall asleep.
Six:
I wake up because I can no longer feel the left side of my body. Sweet Bodhi is sound asleep next to me.
Six ten:
I put him in his crib and slide back into my bed. Justin is snoring. BLOODY HELL!
Eleven fifteen:
I wake up to the sounds of playing children. I walk in to the living room. Bodhi is smiling, like nothing happened.
So this is it. My reign is over. I am now indoctrinated into the world of vomiting children. And I don't like. I don't like it one bit.
I have officially been a mom for 4 years, 22 days, 16 hours, 6 minutes, and 32 seconds. I have had to deal with poop on my clothes and in my hair, I have stuck my fingers, toes and even knee's into shit filled diapers. I have been peed on, I have had spit up run down the center of my back, I have had snot in my hair and in between my toes, I have had breast milk literally squirt across a room, however, I have never, ever, ever, had to deal with my child vomiting.
Vomit scares me. The idea of my child vomiting really really scared me. How does it logistically work when they don't know about the toilette, or buckets, or car windows (sorry I slipped back to my 18th year)
My kids have been sick, they have had fever, diarrhea, rashes, snot that wont stop, coughing, but never vomit. I don't know how I managed to get this far.
Yesterday
Afternoon:
Jaxon comes running in from outside yelling "MY STOMACH HURTS SO BAD". So obviously I told him to go sit on the crapper. He did. It didn't help. Hmm..maybe he's hungry? I had plans to get burgers for dinner, a rare treat for me. I had been dreaming about it all day. I probably should have changed my plans considering a burger is not the most easily digestible, non stomach irritating food you can imagine. However, I wanted a burger dammit. So the entire drive to P.Terry's was filled with screams and moans and " I NEED TO POOP! MAYBE? I THINK?" from the backseat. My heart was racing. I felt my time was coming. I was sure of it. We came home and he downed the entire burger and a whole order of fries and I thought, SHIT! I have horrible memories of throwing up Whataburger when I was a kid, OK 16, OK it may have been after a night of underage drinking, point is, it totally sucks throwing up an entire burger. So that was all that was going through my head. However, I was a little less anxious because I knew that he was capable of using a toilette. So I worked out a plan. However, after he scarfed down his burger, he felt better. Crisis diverted...or so I thought.
Oh and did I mention that Bodhi didn't touch is food. Not super uncommon for Bodhi. He rarely eats dinner anyway.
Midnight thirty:
I literally just shut my eyes to go to sleep. A second later, Bodhi starts screaming in his room. Its the HELP ME! scream. The one, where you know either his leg is caught in the crib or he has just fallen out, head first, onto the floor. I run in there, and he is lying in the crib. Crying. The only light on is the nightlight in the corner. I reach in the crib to grab him and it hits me. The unmistakable smell of raunch. I smelt it then I felt it. Of course I stuck my hand in it. I knew right away that my streak was over.
Midnight thirty one:
I turn on the light and cautiously peek inside the crib. He has chunks coming out his mouth. I scream.
Midnight thirty two:
I realize that this is going to take 2 of us. I yell for Justin. Justin walks in, changes his sheets and says " he probably just gagged on something, I'm sure he's fine" RIGHT!
Midnight thirty three:
Barf again, spewing out onto his coveted "night-night". You know, the blanket that he can't live without! I debate for about 2 minutes if I should just let him just have the puke covered blanket or throw it in the wash with the rest of his sheets and clothes. I choose to let it loose, give it the washing machine monster. He SCREAMS! as I pry it out of his cold, vomit soaked hands.
Midnight thirty five:
I devise a plan. A plan that involved every towel and blanket we own. I cover the floors in towels and wrap blankets around both of my arms. My armor so to speak. We lie on the floor. Bodhi's screaming NIGHT! NIGHT!. All he wants his is vomit soaked blanket.
Midnight forty:
I cradle Bodhi, trying to get him to fall asleep, but he wont. He is standing in the center of my fort. I sense its coming....then it happens. The gag followed by the off white chunks. Luckily this time I was armed with a towel. He pukes in the towel, then grabs it to wipe off his face.
One Fifteen:
I am holding Bodhi, and I hear the washing machine stop. I run to the laundry room and grab wet night night. Eff the dryer at this point. He grabs his blanket, stands up and vomits.
One Sixteen:
We clean up, chunk the first layer of blankets and I hold Bodhi in my arms. He falls asleep. My left leg is under my right butt cheek. I try to move it. He cries. I put it back.
Two forty five:
Still with the left leg under my butt. I try to slowly lower myself to the floor. He cries. I sit back up
Three ish:
Still holding Bodhi. My left leg is numb and my neck feels like someone just jabbed a knife into it.
Three thirty:
I manage to lay him down, and I fall asleep.
Six:
I wake up because I can no longer feel the left side of my body. Sweet Bodhi is sound asleep next to me.
Six ten:
I put him in his crib and slide back into my bed. Justin is snoring. BLOODY HELL!
Eleven fifteen:
I wake up to the sounds of playing children. I walk in to the living room. Bodhi is smiling, like nothing happened.
So this is it. My reign is over. I am now indoctrinated into the world of vomiting children. And I don't like. I don't like it one bit.
4 comments:
Oh so glad you didn't let me come over last night. Poor bohdi. Love you guys!
Beautiful.
Well, as someone who is the parent of the pukiest child on earth, I stand amazed that this is your first experience with barf. I have had the same internal debate on whether or not to just let her have the puke stained lovey (and yes, sometimes I have wiped the puke off and just let her have it. What?)
Sorry for the particularly heinous initiation. Hopefully it's over for a long time!
Ryan puked on Sarah the first day we had the kids. They were so stressed out by the idea that they were being dropped off at our house to live with us FOREVER, that he said he felt sick and then puked right when she picked him up. Our introduction to the dirty parts of parenting was literally instant.
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