Last week was a rough week. Life had just returned to normal after my little one's illness, when my 9 year old started complaining that her stomach hurt. Typical.
She was mostly okay though. I gave her some anti-nausea medicine. She was a little more sleepy than usual and went to bed around 8 and I thought she would sleep it off. I woke up at 3 am, when she tapped me on the shoulder and asked of she could take a hot bath since she was kind of achy. I checked her temperature and it was normal, so I ran her a hot bath. "Here is a towel. Come to bed as soon as you are done." I laid down and had just drifted off to sleep when I heard my daughter's soft voice in front of me. "Mama, I threw up. Can I have some water?" I sat up. "It is on the floor, it smells like chicken." Thanks for the heads up. I nudged my husband and said, "Honey, I have to clean up puke - can you go get C a bottle of water?" He got up and walked like a zombie down stairs. I went to survey the damage.
Now, you must know that I am a veteran when it comes to vomit clean up but this was like nothing I had ever seen. It seemed impossible that so much vomit could come from a single human being. On a scale of 1-10 is was a 9.5. Literally vomit covered 1/2 the bathroom floor. It was up the wall and splattered from the back of the door onto the walls of the bathtub. It looked like someone dropped a vomit bomb. It smelled like chicken, alright. Rotting chicken carcasses. My husband was at the top of the stairs with the water bottle and began to dry heave. It was going to be a solo project.
I got out the towels and began to clean it up. It was everywhere. I could feel it going through the towel and seeping in between my toes. Everywhere I looked, there was more and more. I was delirious, I was so tired. Why does vomit always happen in the middle of the night? ALWAYS in my house. It is never convenient. I used 5 old bath towels and 3 dish rags. It was unreal. I scrubbed my feet and legs and arms up to my elbows and changed my clothes. I crawled into bed next to my husband, my daughter was still in the shower. "Don't touch me. Did you change?" I rolled my eyes. "You are such a wimp. What if I threw up and you had to clean it up?" He thought for a moment. "I would look at it and then say, 'I guess we'll have to move.'" He would do that.
My daughter came out wrapped in a towel. "Mom, will you lay with me?" I did. She wanted me to hold her and she fell asleep facing me and I was pretty sure that was a 50-50 chance that she was going to throw up right in my face while I slept. But, I didn't mind so much. What is it about being a mom, that your need for self preservation just disappears? That you are willing to put yourself at risk of having a child throw up all over your face so that you can hold said child and comfort her? That you can have their vomit in between your toes in the middle of the night and not even be phased? That is love right there.
I watched her sleep for a while. She looked like a kitty cat. I got lucky that night. She didn't puke again and was better the next day. I hope to get a reprieve from vomit for a while. These poor kids. I need to talk to them about trying to do it during the day and directly into the toilet. I can dream....
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