"Vomithounds: You Better Be Good, or You'll Be Gone"
(methinks this gel has a vomit habit)*
Earlier this week, Girl was suffering from an undiagnosed Fever 'N Ague. We knew she had a high temperature. We could see her glassy eyes and flushed cheeks from our vantage point across the room, safely out of germ-jumping range. Plus, we tossed her a thermometer when it looked really serious. And we could sense something respiratory this way coming. She was hacking frequently and mightily...to the point that Monday morning she hacked up the contents of her stomach right onto our bed at 7:30 a.m. Then she paused, coughed some more, and did it again.
On the best of days, I am not a morning person. I should not be asked to operate kitchen appliances, find clean underwear, brush my teeth, or become at all vertical before, say, 11 a.m. Most of all, I should not be asked to deal with vomit on my down duvet before, um, ever o'clock.
But life is out there, as are sick kids, and so, after popping in some toast, diving into some Hanes, scrubbing my gums, and, yes, lurching upright in the process, I patted Girl's back and told her once she felt better, she could bike that soiled duvet down to the drycleaners.
Oh, all right, so actually I hollered for Groom, and we spent a few hasty minutes wiping up ravioli-shaped chunks of Spewed Kid Tummy before I rammed the duvet into a plastic bag and toted it out to the Camry, where it sat steaming (despite subzero temperatures outside) for 9 hours while I was at work, until I deposited it--holding the bag with a tongs--at the drycleaners.
At any rate, Girl's epizudy was later diagnosed as yet another round of strep, compounded by a chest rattle known medically as Crazae Lungum Germinus. Five days later, she's now finished her course of antibiotics and has re-entered the swirl of humanity (in a statement of social justice, I took her to a McDonald's Playplace when she was barely non-contagious and let her touch *everything*. I even had her lick the slide).
So we're all good.
And then tonight, twenty minutes after we ditched him into a bed of stuffed animals, Wee Niblet showed up in the tv room, interrupting our nightly date of BIG LOVE (Season 1 finale, no less) and huge bowls of posole. With a tear-streaked face, he attempted a guilt trip: "I cawed and cawed for you, but you didn't come. I phrewed up in my bed." As he spoke, a waterfall of vomit slid off his footed-pajamas, onto the floor.
"Honey, Mommy's going to need a minute to finish her beer first."
One big chug of Viking Pale Ale, and the Vomit Action Team was back in swing, with Groom handling the laundry while I stripped and re-footed Niblet, before feeding him ten grapes ("I phrewed up because I was coughing so much. Now I'm a weetle bit hungwy. For somefing soft. And do you wike the monsters I made today? Out of cardboard?").
In short, we're not sure how to dress during the Season of Vomit. Maybe chic Glad bags would be most practical, and if we wear them belted and with leggings, they could pass Red Carpet muster, I'm sure.
Somehow, though, I'm in a "Go ahead, World, and Hurl All Your Vomit My Way" type of mood right now. And it's most assuredly not because I'm watching a rerun of Ludacris hosting SNL, either. It's because I have a new musical love, and he has made me vewy, vewy happy.
If you have a couple of minutes, watch this fun exercise in acoustics.
I would clean up vomit with Fionn Regan any morning.
Even at 6 a.m.
If he did all the work.
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*(photo from loafdude at photobucket.com)
25 comments:
Ewww. the thing about vomit is that it makes me want to add to the pile when taking it away.
A priceless slice of life, Jocelyn :)
I loved the "ever o'clock" bit, and many more humorous pièces de résistance.
I enjoy your visual (and, in this particular instance, quasi olfactive) style.
I've never heard of Fionn Regan before, but I must say the video is acoustically fun indeed :)
Marie
god you're funny!
I could just puke---
~bluepoppy
When I was eight years old or so, I threw up at a sleepover at my friends. I was seconds away from getting the toilet seat opened and safely vomiting into the toilet. But as it ended I up, I threw up all over the toilet's outside.
In the morning, my friend's mom had me clean it all up. Even though vomit is pretty freaking gross, to me it seems like cleaning up your kid's vomit, as well as your kid's friend's vomit (assuming said vomit occurs in your home) is part of the unwritten contract with parenting. But clearly she felt otherwise.
But after reading your post, I have to wonder if your child's barf is inherently less disgusting than another person's barf.
"Honey, Mommy's going to need a minute to finish her beer first."
Lord but that was hysterical!
"I cawed and cawed you" oh man, I am near tears, poor little guy, but this was so funny! Vomit is something that is SO hard for me to deal with, especially at night. My kids HAVE learned about the bowl for ongoing vomit days.
Is there any more pathetic sound than a wee one saying "I phrewed up in my bed." I think not.
Nothing brings a family together like vomit.
Hammer--After childbirth, very few things gross me out anymore. Just when you think every damn thing in the world has come out of your body, there's more. So vomit bothers me very little.
Nightowl--Thanks much, friend. Anyone who can use "quasi olfactive" so easily must be really smart and in France.
BluePoppy--I am to induce a good barf in all my readers.
Rocco--Could I have the phone number of that friend's mom? You've got to be kidding. She sounds like a very tight, unhappy woman. And, yup, cleaning up your kids' vomit is somehow less disgusting. It's like "Oh, good, he *did* eat his carrots today after all! I wasn't sure until this moment of mopping them up."
Lee--I do have my priorities.
Stepping--Kids are hard for me to deal with at night. Their vomit, not so much a problem. I'm a fan of the "hurl and run" for them.
Diesel--Bowel ailments have also brought us close.
Reading your blog gave me a wicked craving for ravioli.
Never realised it could be fun reading about vomit.
I felt all warm and fuzzy when you said,"Honey, mummy's going to need a minute to finish her beer first." Hahaha. That is real life.
My dog actually spent most of last night throwing up. Large bits of bone and loads of yellow stomachjuice. That's the stuff... *shudder*
Ah, the joys of vomiting kids. Right up there with that mega poo where they're covered from neck to toes.
Reason 5694 why I never had kids.
By the way, they had hanes diving on the winter x games on espn 9 last night...or maybe that was the snowboard half pipe and I had too much red wine. either way your duvet got barfed on...
I ask myself all the time... "Is there no end to disgusting stuff I will have to do as a mother??"
When the kid was a baby between 9 and 12 months old she went through a projectile vomit phase. It was the most disgusting 3 months of my life. It happened almost every night between midnight and 1 am and every time she did it, she would laugh hysterically afterward. For a while I thought she was doing it on purpose.
Since then she's been pretty good about making it to the toilet except one day a few months back. We had spaghetti for dinner. She was eating in a hurry because there was somehthng on the Disney Channel that she just HAD to see (probably High School Musical for 500th time...We're all in this together...- mom sings off key)
Anyway, I kept telling her to slow down, she was going to get sick... no sooner than she left the table and walked up the stairs she calls me from the top of the stairs and says "Mommy my tummy hurts" I said go in the bath... and before I got the "room" out there it was... spaghetti and all other sorts of stomache juices rolling down my beige carpeted stairs! The only thing more disgusting then spaghetti throw up on the stairs is when you have to clean it up and it's still warm.
I was so disgusted by it that before I finished cleaning it up I went on line to check the house values in my neighborhood because surely it would be easier to just sell the house and find a throw up-free home.
Sigh....
I Love a good vomit story. ;)
Steve~
The joys of parenting! There is nothing worse than trying to figure out how to get puke covered jammies off of a kid at 3AM when no human being can make any kind of rational decision.
Amusing as your tale is, I am so glad I am childless. Cat vomit is bad enough. But your priorities are heartening.
Puss
I have a serious gag reflex, but it is (thankfully) different with your own kids. This summer my youngets ate two big bowls of clam chowder, then yarked in the kitchen, the dining room, the living room AND the hallway. He made it to the bathroom and I said, "Lean over the toilet." He turned to look at me and threw up all over the bathroom floor. But the best part? As we were mopping up and I realized I did not feel like cooking I said to my husband without thinking - "Hey, we should get some take-out shrimp stuff from that Cuban place tonight." The look on his face was priceless.
This is where your Duluth residence gets you into trouble: I've tagged you with a meme. That's right, a meme.
jocelyn-
You actually made me laugh about vomiting kids. You're truly gifted. Great post and I hope that you're house is vomit free now!
-velvet
Had to, HAD TO, reset my password just so I could say how glad I am you are writing regularly. I swear, you're funnier than Bill Keane.
Alzheimerlich, the echt Deutsch, adjectival form: meaning your mind re: Cheerios and mine re: passwords.
You know? I'd have had to not only finish my beer but grab another to fortify myself. Sadly, these things usually seem to happen to me in the middle of the night with the spew between me and the bottle of fortification.
Hope the vomit fairy didn't spread it around. The posole would not be as wonderful coming back the other way.
(sorry, I left a comment Monday but blogger ate it.)
Dorky Dad--I'm on the meme. Have some ravioli while you're waiting.
Lone Grey Squirrel-Are you sure you didn't feel warm and fuzzy because you were about to vomit?
Choo-Choo--Is the pup better yet? More importantly, are *you*?
Jazz--I could probably get you up to at least 10,000 reasons why you're glad you didn't have kids.
Furiousball--I'd been wondering if you have ESPN.
Let's Pretend--What, you don't like warm spaghetti?
Steven--I aim to make you all dewy-eyed.
Em--I can't make a rational decision at noon, either. I have no good hours.
ActonBell--If you did have kids and then vomited when they did, you could make them clean up your mess, right? Doesn't it work like that?
Glamourpuss--My blog could be prescribed as birth control.
csl--Shrimp makes me want to vomit. Cuba kind of does, too. Well, Castro, anyways.
Velvet--Cheers, gf!
ijim--I know that resetting your password came at real personal sacrifice. Thanks for the limpest of compliments ("Bill Keane"). Hee.
Diana--I wish Blogger would just vomit up all those eaten comments.
wiping up ravioli-shaped chunks of Spewed Kid Tummy before I rammed the duvet into a plastic bag
Do you hear that sound? That's Dan running like Hell to the toilet, about to hurl.
I always marveled at how my children managed the split second timing of one getting sick the day after another got well. Only occasionally were they sick at the exact same time so I could do a sort of assembly line with everything.
I hope everybody is feeling better soon. Especially you. This was soooo funny. Glad you've kept your sense of humor when everything else is hurling around you.
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