Praying to the Porcelain god... again!

Why does it always happen at night?! Dealing with a vomiting child is horrible no matter how you slice it, but being forced to handle such a situation while you’re fumbling around in the dark, bleary-eyed, with only a handful of brain cells firing makes it infinitely worse! Last night, our daughter climbed into bed, as usual, sometime around midnight. Within a few minutes, the restlessness started. This is not the normal tossing and turning that happens during a comfortable sleep, no, this is the type of restlessness that puts all my senses on high-alert. I was especially sensitive to my daughter’s agitation, because I was also doing a great deal of tossing and turning. On my other side, I felt my husband rolling back and forth more than usual. All I could think was, “Somebody’s gonna be puking tonight!” 

Eventually my daughter asked to go up to her bed, she seemed to sense that something was amiss  and wanted to spare our bed from what was to come, what a sweet kid! I cuddled into bed with her, hoping that she would settle down, but soon enough she said those dreaded words, “Mommy my tummy hurts.”  It’s now official, “Game on!”

We both sat up just in time for her to vomit all over her bed, herself, and the floor. Amazingly, I managed to stay out of the line of fire. Puke-mode goes into effect immediately; strip the beds, change the pj’s, throw in a load of laundry, and find some new bedding. Then attempt to lay down again, knowing that your attempts are futile.

She threw up two more times after that, along with about ten false alarms. But I have to say, she really impressed me. By the second bout of vomiting, she had turned into a champion! Every time she felt the urge, she would march her little bottom into the bathroom and assume her position next to the toilet. Sometimes she would hold onto the edges and simply lean over. Then she experimented with kneeling on the floor while embracing the thrown. A couple times she even made herself comfortable by resting her forehead on the bowl. She was incredibly stoic about the whole thing; there was no crying or whimpering, she simply stayed focused on the task at hand without partaking in any unnecessary fanfare. I can tell you that she absolutely does not get this from me!

For me, throwing up requires tons of fanfare! As a kid, I needed a support staff, an audience, and some serious talk-therapy every time I threw up. My sister always seemed to fill this enviable role nicely. My Mom usually had her hands full managing the mess and laundry in preparation for the next bout of excitement. So if she was unavailable, I would call my sister into the bathroom. I didn’t get intestinal bugs often, but when I did, I made the most of them! Needless to say, my sister was being called in for moral support numerous times in short succession. Every time she heard my pitiful cries, she would hurry in and hang out next to me, inevitably thinking, “Why does she need me here every single time?!” But being the awesome big sister that she is, she never complained to my face. Or maybe she did, but I was too busy to notice.

So the moral of the story is this… if you’re going to puke, take a note from my daughter. Don’t work yourself up, don’t be squeamish, just march up to that bowl, hang on tight, and get down to business! Prolonging the inevitable doesn’t make the experience any more pleasant. If you’re anything like my little warrior, you may even find yourself asking to go to the ice-cream shop the next morning.  In this case, follow my lead, and resist the temptation.