Thursday, June 30, 2011

pukefest 2011

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Jackson enjoying an original glazed at Krispy Kreme. This picture has nothing to do with the post. I just wanted to give you something to look at while you consider whether or not you want to read about vomit.

So. There’s a reason I’ve never blogged about vomit before. Aside from the occasional spit-up when they were babies, the boys have never been sick to the point of throwing up. I know. I’m extravagantly blessed. I knew it was going to happen eventually. In fact, I’m surprised we made it through that ‘Iraq year’ without such an incident. Because honestly, everything else that could have happened, did. But no. We were still blazing along with a clean record when Caleb left for Utah four weeks ago. He’d been gone about ten days before the puke hit the floor… and the wall, and my toile throw pillows.

It started with Jon. He threw up three times between midnight and 4 AM. I sponged indiscernible chunks off his arms three times. I changed his entire bedding set three times. I ran out of twin sized sheets and had to use kings. Oh and also, Jackson slept through the entire thing.

A week later it was Jack’s turn. He stood in my doorway at midnight and said “I think I need a drink of water.” Before I could peel my eyelids open, he was spilling pureed lasagna onto the carpet. I tried my best to get him over the toilet before he completely emptied the contents of his stomach. In retrospect, not the smartest idea. We managed to get about 2 tablespoons in the bowl, the rest was splashed across the floor from the original blast zone, trailed onto the bathroom tile, up the cabinets, and lets not forget the throw pillows. I now understand the phrase “projectile vomit”.

It was a new experience for both of us. In fact, between heaves Jackson was all “Why am I coughing? What is that stuff?” And I’m herding him over the toilet bowl going “Everyone does it sometimes. It’s okay. You’re throwing up.”

“I DON’T WANT TO BLOW UP!!”

It took me a half hour to get him cleaned up and back in the bed, then I stood in the hallway surveying the damage and seriously doubting the adequacy of my cleaning chemicals. I attacked it the best I could, and guess what… You don’t know what a mother’s love is until you’ve spritzed an entire bottle of Resolve on the carpet at 1:00 AM. Between my bedroom, the hallway, and the bathroom, there was puke spanning 12 feet of carpet, tile, and the toile pillows. I was too weary to calculate how long the clean up took. When I finally threw the last rag into the washing machine and the empty Resolve bottle into the trashcan, I crawled into bed and closed my eyes.

I heard a door open. Looked up to see Jackson coming down the hallway, locked eyes with him for a split second, jumped out of the bed just in time to witness him vomit further pureed lasagna on the freshly cleaned carpet. When it was over, we both just kind of stood there in disbelief until Jackson looked up and said “Okay, now what?”

“Now meet your new best friend, the batter bowl.”

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