Monday, March 1, 2010

Vomitous Maximus

The Boy has puked once a day, every day, for the last four days.

But yesterday he showed signs of improvement. No nausea. No fever. In fact, his energy level was high enough to force me into a corner where I curled up into the fetal position and went to my happy place (note to reader: my happy place usually involves bed & breakfast accommodations and wine).

I went to bed thinking the worst was over, except for whatever my mother (who, by the way, I'm thinking of referring to as Whore Mouth from here on out) was going through downstairs. Apparently, she has caught the disease from The Boy and she doesn't handle vomiting very well. In fact, I think she was crying at one point and asking God to make it stop.

My dream of being in a car race on a dirt road in Half Moon Bay was interrupted by The Boy's 12:30 AM wails.

"Mmmmmmom! Mmmmmom! I have to throw up ... I'm not going to make it!"

Fuck me. I've had enough of kids puking in floor vents. Not tonight. Not on my watch.

With lightening speed, I launch myself out of bed, run smack into a wall, rebound, fly into his room and simultaneously switch on the light switch while tripping over an abandoned Candyland game.

It was my brilliant idea to buy bunk beds. Now my pale faced son is about to lose his shit and can't make it down the ladder in time.

I reach up, balance The Boy's stomach on my head and ease him down.

"Please don't throw up down my back. Please don't throw up down my back. Please don't throw up down my back."

Running to the bathroom with my son perched on my head, we make it just in time.

But my son is a rookie puker and lunges at the toilet at the wrong angle. He's now throwing up almost completely upside down.

With tears in his eyes and his little knees knocking he cries, "It burns! My nose burns!"

The next twenty minutes are devoted to blowing his nose in vain.

The Boy crawls into bed with me. With a designated puke bucket at the ready and a cold wash cloth on his forehead, I turn off the lights.

"Goodnight, Baby Boy."

"Goodnight, Baby Girl."

All is quiet except for the constant sniffing of The Boy who can't breathe out of his nose thanks to a trail of vomit left in his nasal passages.

Sniff. Sniff. Chunk. Sniff. Chunk.

By now, I'm about to puke. I don't know whether I'm actually sick, or just sick of cleaning vomit and loose bowels.

Sniff. Chunk. Sniff. Swallow. Swallow. Chunk. Sniff.

An hour and a half later, he falls asleep. The next morning he will ask for waffles and not eat them. I'll push enough caffeine in me to give a silverback gorilla the shakes and still be tired. I'll walk Boss Lady to school because she is unscathed from the disease (she tells me it's because she eats healthy) but not before she reads the paper (she says she likes to know what's going on in the world. She's five.) The bruise on my arm from running full speed into a wall will blossom. Whore Mouth will fret over what she should or should not eat. I'll write another post about vomit and remember the days when I used to write about vaginas and my imaginary boyfriends.

In non-puke related news, my underachiever achieved an average score and passed her GED!! And it looks like she might have landed a full-time job slingin' deli sandwiches. Yaaay Legal!!!


Wicked Shawn said...

Tell The Boy some of us never outgrow the nasal burn of the vomiting, poor thing, I burnt the hell out of my nasal passages over the weekend.
Whore Mouth is a fabulous mother monicker, I love it!
Why am I not surprised, given previous tales of Legal's temperament, that she is a redhead. A very pretty one, at that. Congrats to her on her (under)Acheivement!! (one smartass mom to another)

MrsBlogAlot said...

Aww!!! Poor baby!

Is there anything worse than a sick child?

Well, it's true, I haven't heard all of the vagina stories yet...

Rebecca said...

"Spit-up" as it's referred to in this house, is awful and I'm so glad we aren't going through this right now. Hopefully he feels better soon as does your mom....and you stay healthy along with anyone else...Spring is Coming!

Miss Spoken said...

@Wicked - Isn't she beautiful? And to think I used to tell her that she was descended from trolls. She's also a Leo. Oh, and so am I ... so our fights are pretty legendary.

@MrsBlogalot -Yes, there is something worse than a sick child and that is, a sick mother who acts as though she has never puked whilst shitting. Umm.... hello ... do the 20s ring a bell?

@Rebecca - Spit up? That is way to docile for this household. Spit up refers to something with the liquid measurement of a tablespoon or less. In our house, we call that 'ejaculation.'

Anonymous said...

Harlowe is too smart man. I so appreciate her needing to read the paper every morning. She is so much like her Dad. But has your smarts. Scary. She could very well rule the world one day! She seems like that kind of girl! Ha Ha....

Sorry Max is sick... bummer, puking is no fun for anyone. Stoked Moon Beam got her GED, actually really proud of her. You should all celebrate! Stoked she has a line on a job as well. Can't wait to see if she gets it.... Again,this deserves a celebration!

Ok then, love you guys.... And miss you!!!

Xx Auntie Stacey


my daughter who has also been sick was nestea plunging back on the bed for like 10 mins straight - she's 17 months, and she runs over to me for a hug and i think - omg, how sweet, and she then barfed all over me, my face, and my bed. i feel yer pain

Elly Lou said...

I had pop rocks in my nose once. That super sucked.

PS I am forever now referring to ejaculate as spit-up. "Hey man, don't spit-up on my face."

vivalacrap said...

You should probably just start injecting the caffeine directly into your vein.

Forgotten said...

I hate when puke comes out my nose. Luckily I haven't puked since the birth of my baby girl (damn spinal block), who will be a year old on the 26th. Go me!

Also, we have progressed to barf and "spit-up" at my house. Spit-up only because it's usally just one small puddle instead of several giant streams like I get from the boys now. Yay!