Yes, this is another post about puke. Don’t hate me. You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. I promise this won’t go on forever. Will it?
“Everyone’s feeling better!”
…And she was suddenly struck down by her own stupidity and failure to realize that there is no such thing as a stomach bug that only strikes two out of five family members…
I had another man down yesterday. After school Rachel was a little, uh, not herself, and actually put herself to bed while they were all watching the teevees. If there’s one thing Rachel never misses, it’s her programs. Just like your grandma.
I knew it was going to happen (vomit radar, remember?), but it was a question of when. She insisted her stomach didn’t hurt, but please. I know a potential puker when I see one. She finally headed to the bathroom to conduct some regular business, and this good mom sat on the edge of the bathtub and watched her look miserable for a solid 10 minutes or so. This girl, she’s a sitter, and that’s not a typo from the other type of activity that was taking place in there. Which she was also doing.
Other awesome yet possibly detrimental things happening at this time were a torrential rainstorm, a husband stuck at work because of said rainstorm, and a 4% battery level on my phone. I was getting pretty terrified that the power would go out, so I headed to plug in my phone and check on the other kids who were pretty much entertaining themselves by emptying the contents of every toy bin in the entire house.
You know when you’re preoccupied, and you hear something, but you don’t really HEAR it? And you kind of dismiss it, then your brain kicks into high gear and all of the sudden you realize that background noise amongst all the other noises in your house is the sound of your daughter puking her guts out all over the bathroom floor? And you’re not sure if you’re mad at yourself for not being there or relieved that your feet didn’t serve as the vomit bucket again?
And then you ask yourself Why for the love of God did I give her cottage cheese for snack???
The smell. The chunks. The horror. You’re totally going to unsubscribe from this blog now, aren’t you? Please don’t leave me in my hour of need.
I thought I was being all smart by sticking to the BRATT diet for dinner (bananas, rice, applesauce, tea, toast), but let me tell you — you haven’t really lived until you’ve sopped up regurgitated applesauce from the carpet when your kid throws up yet again after going to bed.
Seriously, please don’t leave. I promise tomorrow’s post won’t be about puke.