Warning: The Word "Vomit" And Its Synonyms Appear A LOT In This Post

Yesterday afternoon, immediately after writing a blog post, I cleaned the bathroom downstairs, then headed upstairs to clean that bathroom.  I wish I could say this is regular practice- you know, daily bathroom disinfecting- but it's just not.  I've been especially vigilant about having clean bathrooms and doorknobs and such because this is what the smaller inhabitants of our house have been doing:

That's not just regular napping- that's vomit-recovery napping.  Thankfully the worst of Adelaide's illness occurred yesterday, and after spending the morning resting, she seems to have mostly recovered this afternoon.  Atticus, however, started up with the spewing last night, and, as of several hours ago, was still going strong, stomach contents ejection-wise.  

Back to the hyper-vigilant cleaning:  I went into the upstairs bathroom, happy I was getting all this done while both the boys were napping.  When I opened the toilet lid, however, I found something unexpected: a toilet bowl full of puke.  Why unexpected?  Because Atticus and Adelaide, my two pukers, had been downstairs throughout naptime.  Caedmon was the only kid upstairs, and thus far, he hadn't been sick.  Surely he would have cried out for me if he'd thrown up.  Surely he wouldn't have made it to the toilet.  

I was so excited.

Excited because I had a real live puke-ninja on my hands.  Do you know how accurate our kids' puke-aim is?  Not accurate at all.  Do you know how often our kids' prefer privacy when vomiting?  Almost never.  Yet here was proof that our three-year-old, of all people, had gotten up during his nap, by himself, thrown up in the toilet, then put himself back to bed.  Sure, he forgot to flush, and I'm positive he didn't wash his hands, but who the heck cares when you're the stealthiest puker in the house?

I realize how this sounds, okay?  I mean, who's thrilled to find a toilet full of puke in their house?  Someone who's desperately searching for silver linings, that's who.  Don't ruin it for me, friends.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

(Sung to the tune of the Christmas song by the same name)


Said the dark house to the tired mom,
"Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through night, tired mom
Do you hear what I hear?
The sound, the sound,
Splashing on the floor
Vomit containing reconstituted pizza, berries, and God knows what else
Vomit containing reconstituted pizza, berries, and God knows what else


Said the dark house to the tired mom,
"Do you see what I see?
Spread all through your home, tired mom
Do you see what I see?
Your son, your son,
A mere foot away from the toilet
Choosing instead to barf all over the carpet, the wall, and himself
Choosing instead to barf all over the carpet, the wall, and himself


Said the mom to her sick little boy,
"Do you know what I know?
Covered in your own bodily fluids, little boy
Do you know what I know?
This carpet cleaner, this carpet cleaner,
Doesn't work for crap
Oh for crying out loud please stop finding new surfaces to coat in your puke
Oh for crying out loud please stop finding new surfaces to coat in your puke


Said the the sick boy to his weary mom,
"Listen to what I say!
On your hands and knees, scrubbing, weary mom
Listen to what I say!
I'm choosing, I'm choosing,
(Just to make tonight more interesting!)
To view that perfectly innocuous thermometer as a medieval torture device and that liquid Tylenol as the devil's own elixir
To view that perfectly innocuous thermometer as a medieval torture device and that liquid Tylenol as the devil's own elixir









Note:  I'd like to thank my 3:30 am self for scribbling this little ditty down for me to find in the morning.  Thanks also to Derek for taking the long 4- 6 am Puke Shift, allowing me some sleep before I took a deep breath and dove back in.  My apologies for the overall delirious tone and blatant disregard for little things like meter, proper phrasing, and basic rhyming.

Over the Past Four Days, I Have:

• Cleaned up enough puke to pickle a rhino.  We have a nasty bug that's making its way through four members of our family, with me being the lone healthy survivor.  Let's all take just a moment and pray to the sweet baby Jesus that I don't get sick.  I've scrubbed carpet, child car seats, seat belts, Caedmon, a rocking chair, clothing, Cade's bed, our bed, me, and the siding on the house.  Caedmon may be the only one doing the vomiting, but he's an equal opportunity regurgitator.  

• Been used as a makeshift pillow anytime I dare to sit down.  Evidently our offspring need near-constant physical contact when ill.

Convalescing on the front porch with Daddy.

• Stumbled across our children lying all over the house and yard.  Because I've found all kinds of extra chores to do just so that I don't have to sit down and become a potential puke receptacle.

• Escaped from the house and its sick inhabitants for a few hours to enjoy a Mommy-Daughter date with Adelaide.  A little coffee shop opened here in our little town about a month ago, and I've been doing my civic duty to ensure it stays open.  When Adelaide requested we go there, I told her she was my favorite kid and off we went.

She had a chocolate muffin.  I had iced coffee.  We played checkers.  I didn't clean up puke.  It was beautiful.

• Delayed going back into the House of Illness as long as possible by looking at every possible flower in our front yard.  Adelaide joined me.

Lilacs!

Flowering Dogwood!

• Totally stole Cassi Renee's idea and had Adelaide take pictures while up in the tree.

• Spent some quality time with the fam in our basement due to the tornadoes that went through the area last night.  One evidently touched down right on the edge of town, and another was near a neighboring town.  It was a noisy night of wind, thunder, and tornado sirens.  Still, we're all okay, and I have yet to hear of any major casualties (aside from cows).

Silver Linings

I gotta tell you, today has been one of those days.  The kind where, in order to convince yourself that Yes, you should get out of bed tomorrow morning, you have to mentally gloss over all the negative aspects and accentuate the positive.

On that note, I give you all the great things that happened today:


This morning, Caedmon greeted me with a great big smile when I walked into his bedroom.  See?  That's a terrific positive.  He also gestured grandly like a miniature, male Vanna White while standing in the corner of his crib and proudly cried, "See what I did?" in order to properly showcase the vomit covering his sheets and blankets, his own clothing, and the bars of his crib.  I'm guessing he didn't point out the puke crusted in his hair simply because he couldn't see it.
Positive:  Caedmon's cheerful morning greeting and his channeling of a glittering game show model was a terrific way to start the day.  As long as you ignored the powerful stench.


This evening at the supper table, I got three whole bites of food into my mouth before Atticus brought forth a truly impressive amount of vomit before bursting into hysterical tears.  He was also kind enough to turn to the side immediately before doing so, saving the table and its spread of freshly prepared food from mixing with Atticus's slightly less fresh, already-digested food.
Positive:  I did get a little supper, and most of the puke landed on the laminate flooring.


Five minutes later, while I was working on cleaning up the aforementioned well-placed mess and Adelaide and Caedmon were plowing through their supper, astonishingly unaffected by their brother's impressive display of regurgitation, I could hear Derek leading Atticus toward the stairs to head up for a bath.  They made it all the way to the staircase before another chorus of heaving and splashing echoed through the house.
Positive:  It was in the front room, which is all wood flooring; easy clean-up.  Plus by this point I was giggling a bit maniacally, which Adelaide questioned.  I gave her a little history lesson and hit her with an Abraham Lincoln quote:  "I laugh because I must not cry.  That is all.  That is all."  While cleaning up vomit.  Parenting Level "Supreme Awesomeness": Unlocked.


I got to go to the library for a while this evening, which I believe gave me the fortitude I needed to clean up the mess I found in one of the children's bedrooms upon my return.  I won't burden you with the knowledge of exactly what it was, but I will say it was a puddle of a common byproduct of illness other than vomit nestled in a Vikings cap.  Evidently it magically appeared there, as none of our three children have any idea of its origin.
Positive:  We live in a time and place where modern plumbing exists.  I was able to throw the hat, a befouled teddy bear, and a number of pieces of less-than-pristine boys clothing into the washer with only minor clean-up beforehand, dump in some soap, turn a knob, and walk away.  Straight to the kitchen sink where I viciously scrubbed my hands.


Yup.  It was a good day.