I smelled my armpit as I lay in bed. I know, but I honestly could not help myself. I caught a whiff of my Amazing Grace shower gel I’d used just minutes before. And I relished the moment. Knowing that smelling that clean wouldn’t last. Because these days, there’s a baby who loves to use me as his burp rag.
But as I Iay there, basking in my sweet smelling-ness, you know what I didn’t account for?! I did not account for vomit. Not the baby kind. But the 5 year old kind. In his top bunk. And all over him. And me. Goodbye shower. And feeling so fresh and so clean clean. Nice knowing you. See you in a day or two.
At one point, we had three brothers screaming their most impressive screams. One covered in vomit. One woken by the one covered in vomit. And one who likely just smelled that mom had left the room. In all of her sweet-smelling glory.
I literally stripped all pieces of bedding off along with his barfy jams. And threw them straight in the wash. I know… It’s like I’m a 22 year old dude. But in my defense, it’s not because vomit freaks me out. But because it is my hope of hopes that if I don’t actually touch the puke, the germs can’t hop on me for a ride.
And of course, it was nighttime. Because it is physically impossible for the stomach flu to hit a child during daylight hours. When people have their wits about them. And you can see the most direct path to the bathroom. And you aren’t lambasted by the stench of puke lurking in spots you have yet to determine until you can get a thorough look-see. So we set the biggest bro up on a couch in the living room. Where he also threw up. And missed the bucket. The first time, at least. Not the four times that followed.
He couldn’t sleep in our room because we have a baby in there currently who screams bloody murder in his attempts to be fed. And I couldn’t leave him in his room, sans sheets. Marooned on a vom infested bed. That seemed pretty low, even for a mama with a kid on the boob and another with a bucket.
And I think he and I each got a good two hour stretch of sleep from 4 to 6. So that’s a win.
So no party for him today. And no candy hearts. Just an oz of Gatorade every hour {thanks, auntie Kim!}. And endless movies for his in and out of sleep viewing pleasure.
And I have to be honest… I’m not liking the chances that we other dominoes won’t fall. It’s the stomach flu. It rarely discriminates. And so, perhaps we will all spend our weekend snuggling a bucket.
So from our house to yours, Happy Vomitines Day. May you love the ones your with and not puke on those you love.
