There’s nothing like a puking child to bring you into the present moment. My day started very early this morning, in fact, it actually started last night around 11:00 P.M. My head had literally just hit the pillow when my daughter meanders into our room. She climbs into bed, tosses and turns a few times, and then proceeds to vomit all over our bed.
Despite the shared fatigue between my husband and me, we quickly go into what I like to call, “puke mode”. Any parent will know exactly what this means. Basically, you shake off whatever state of sleep you were in, or were about to enter into, and go through a series of robotic movements throughout the house. You only have to experience one bout of gastrointestinal distress within your household to become an expert in the readiness plan. My husband goes to work stripping the bed and fumbling around for a clean sheet. I grab my daughter, strip off her pukey pajamas, and prepare the bath.
Once she’s been hosed down, we attempt bedtime again. Together we crawl into her toddler bed, and all she wants to do is rub her little face all over mine. Now, I love my children more than anything in this world; their well-being is the most important thing in my life. That being said, I still don’t fancy the idea of being puked on in the face. I want to cuddle her and offer her any bit of support she needs, but I find myself strategically positioning my head in hopes of avoiding a vomit bath.
As I imagined, the tossing and turning continues, so I go to plan B. Plan B pretty much means throwing all the rules out the window and giving my kids anything they want. Vomiting equals cart-blanche in our household, so we’re off to the couch to watch copious amounts of cartoons. Within a few minutes my little girl is throwing up again, so I reenter robotic mode. I pull out my carpet cleaner and start shampooing the couch and area rug. I place towels all over the couch and proceed to do about 3 loads of laundry. I also realize that the only drinks I have to offer my daughter are water, milk, and coffee. I know that water isn’t the best drink during these times, but it wins out over the latter choices. Unfortunately, one sip of water turns into about a gallon of watery vomit. So after a couple more failed attempts at hydration, I decide that a trip to the pharmacy is in my future. There are very few things that would send me out in the rain in the middle of the night, but Pedialite happens to make the list.
Before walking out the door, I change out of my pajamas and into clothes that pretty much look exactly like pajamas. I glance in the mirror and see that my fiery hair is looking particularly insane at the moment, but I can’t muster the energy to tame it. Instead I make a pathetic attempt to smear some lip gloss on before leaving the house. I decide that I still look like an escaped mental patient, but I doubt that I will run into any familiar faces at 2:00 A.M.
Well, I’m wrong! The person working at the register is a professional acquaintance of mine. He’s sweet and understanding, being that he is a parent of a young child himself, but still, I can’t wait to get my wild-maned, poorly dressed, pasty face out of there!
My daughter is very happy to have me home, but adamant that she will not drink that nasty swill I had the nerve to bring through the door. After eight vomiting bouts and hours of cartoons, we drift off to sleep around 4:30 A.M.
My son is up at 6:30 A.M.
Parenting…. Definitely not for the faint of heart.
I will never forget waking up to my son puking on my head. You know you really love someone when you change them, remake your bed, tuck them into it while you have puke in your hair and then take a shower before you climb back in bed with him and cuddle him.
ReplyDeleteThat certaily sounds like an experience that will stay etched in your memory! The depths of a mother's love never ceases to amaze me. I am also continuously amazed by a mother's impressively high tolerance for gross-ness!
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