Location: Palm Beach County, Florida, United States

Recently have been told I look like Mary Ann from Gilligan's Island. I hadn't heard that in years, but that is a good place to start as to what I look like, although she had a better bod. I have three boys and have been married for 13 years. Born of a Navy family, in Hawaii, one Mom, one Dad, one sister and one brother. The eldest of three children. BS in Applied Mathematics. Consider Pensacola my home town although I moved every 2-3 years of my life growing up. Currently work in the aerospace industry in an engineering position while being a Mom. Of Celtic heritage and very proud of it.

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

Puke and Play

Today was busy. I’m blogging early as I’ll be spending tonight putting together a carseat. (Per the story below, I had to take it apart and wash it.) Anyone with small children understands what a pain in the neck that is.

Last night we realized that Son#3 was not totally over his stomach virus. When you have potty trained children, you are not always aware. He goes into the bathroom, leaving the door open, while we’re eating dinner last night and I hear his body doing a core dump. The whole table heard it. I lost my appetite. He comes back to the table and I said, “Well, little buddy, I don’t think you can to go school tomorrow.” Son#1 chimes in, “He can’t! He can’t go to school. The rules say if you have poop like that you can’t go to school!” Wha? I looked at him and said, “First, how in the hell do you know that?” to which he replied very matter of factly, “Well, Mom, you know how we have to read 15 minutes every day in school? Well one day I forgot my book and I had to have something to read, so I read the rule book.”

So there you have it. My eldest is now the resident expert on the rules for his school, including what type of poop you can and cannot have to attend school. Lovely dinner conversation… of which I will spare you the most graphic horrible parts.

This morning, Son#1 wakes up sure he is sick, lying on the bathroom floor, in his uniform, telling me he is going to be sick. He feels icky in the morning sometimes and I keep telling him, if he’ll get up and around, eat something, and give himself time, he will be fine. I let him stay home once this year with this and it is not happening again. Oh, but he is dying!!!, he swears. I’m in a bad mood now.

Son#3 is crying because he wants to go to school and he doesn’t care if he has icky poop, he MUST go to school. I inform him it’s a Mommy and him day and he’s staying home.

We get in the car, Son#1 so sure he will be ill, with a beach towel to catch any vomit and two Publix grocery bags to vomit into. I’m still feeling no sympathy for him and have thrown his backpack and lunchbox in the car. Son#3 is still bemoaning the fact he can’t go to school.

We get 5 miles down the road and Son#3 tells me he has to go to the bathroom. Bad. So I go out of my way to my husband’s office so he can use his, running up the stairs with him, silently cursing the Gods under my breath and at the same time praying this child does not poop all over me. His job finished, back into the car we go. Son#1 is still swearing he’s going to vomit.

Two minutes from school, Son#3 starts crying his stomach hurts and out of my rear view mirror I see he has grabbed the grocery bags out of Son#1’s hands and is actually heaving into them. It’s not a little, “Oh I have to puke”, but no kidding puking his guts out heaving in these bags. I can’t stop! I’m in bumper to bumper traffic, we’re going to be late, so I yell at Son#1, “Give him your towel!” Then I realize, if that bag of vomit spills in my car, I’m never getting that stench out. I caution him to keep the bag closed when I hear Son#1 say, “Mom, the bag opened he spilled some.” Luckily, it was in his car seat and on his pants. Son#1 declares, “Mom, I feel fine now. I’m going to school.” I don’t know what did it, the thought of riding home with the stench in my van or the thought of spending the day with his stinky brother and his pissed off mother. Or maybe it was an epiphany that he wasn’t really sick… his kid brother was.

We get to their temporary school, a place none of us has ever been. I’m supposed to walk each of them to their new classes, but I have puke boy in the backseat and I would have to hold him, covering myself in his bunny poop (cocoa puffs for you new readers) puke. That was a last resort. I flagged down a Mom I know, she grabbed a friend, and they each took one of my kids up to their classroom. It was now 8:20AM and I needed a nap, but instead, I did more laundry.

Now if anyone can explain it to me, I would be forever grateful. Why is it I can puke my guts out and all I want to do is sleep. Forever. My 5 year old pukes and within minutes, he’s hippety hopping all over my house, la la la, love love love, birds chirping, butterflies in the air, life is good! On Sunday, he barfed, then went into his bedroom, got dressed, put on his best ‘sun protection hat’ then marched outside to help his Dad take down hurricane shutters. He did come in 15 minutes later declaring it too hot outside, but the kid threw up again, 4 more times and after each time, he was boucing around my house ready to run a marthon! What is that about?!


Blogger That 1 Guy said...

Not to sound nasty, but I get to feeling pretty good after hurling, too. Leading up to it, don't like it one bit. Usually wish I was dead. But after a stomachus eruptus episode, I feel like a million bucks. Although, I can't say I'm bouncing around the house! :)

2:27 AM  
Blogger Quality Weenie said...

After puking I feel great until it starts to build up again.

But not that great that I want to run around.

youth=quick recovery time.

7:26 AM  

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