When the Vomit Fairy Visits
Thursday is a terrible day for me. Josh has to be at soccer practice at 5:00 and Abby has to be at soccer at 5:30, 15 miles in the other direction. In rush hour traffic.
We started at 4:45 yesterday. I turned on a movie for the blonde goddess and we hit the road. Abby was in a fury because she could not find any soccer socks and it was my fault. It's always my fault. I take the socks and hide them because nothing gives me greater joy than hiding socks. I'm sure it has nothing to do with her taking the socks off in my car, where they sit and fester for several weeks before the smell finally gets to me and I am forced to excavate them from under the floor mat and remove them with a stick and bury them.
Anyway, we dropped Josh off first. The goddess was whining, but I did not pay much attention to her because she is always whining. The ride to Abby's soccer practice is windy and twisty and with the traffic, it is start and stop as well. Abby and the goddess were whining in sync, with Abby complaining she didn't feel good and Anna just whining. As we rode over the Cahaba, I briefly fantasized about pushing them both in, but I restrained myself.
We got to the soccer field and I threw Abby out the door. One of her teammates saw her and Abby underwent an instant transformation from sulky hell child to bubbling, giddy 6th grade girl. The goddess was continuing to whine, saying she had a headache and she felt sick. I felt her forehead, and it felt cool, so I told her to hold on and she could lay down when we got home.
"But what if I throw up?" she wailed.
There was a duffel bag in the backseat and facetiously I told her to throw up in it if she needed to.
I pulled out of the parking lot and went 1/10 of a mile and the vomiting started. I looked up and she was vomiting into the duffel bag. I felt really bad and I started to pull over, but then I reasoned she was already puking, so I might as well keep going. After it was over, she looked up at me woefully, a chunk of vomit on her chin.
"All better now?" I asked her compassionately.
"Yes, but I threw up cheese," she said.
Well, there you go: cheese chunks. I rode the rest of the way home with all the windows down, but the smell still settled in my nose. Ahhh, the aroma of freshly puked cheese!! We got home and I threw the duffel bag straight into the garbage can. They are easily replaced and I had no particular inclination to clean the chunks out. As I lifted the lid, I suddenly remembered I had a supply of vomit bags in my glove compartment that I had stolen from the ER at Children's Hospital last year. It would have saved the duffel bag, but it was too late.
We walked into the house and she was skipping, nearly 100% better. I put her in the shower and she started belting out "This Land is My Land" at the top of her lungs. When I went to check on her, she told me she was starving. By the time she got out of the shower, she was weak with hunger. She proceeded to eat three chicken fingers, a helping of mac and cheese, one of mashed potatoes, a huge quantity of fruit, and a glass of milk. It all stayed down, so I am going to assume she was carsick. Next Thursday, when it's time for soccer, I am going to put the vomit bag right next to her carseat.
He was 18 months old when this motion sickness thing began, so I actually taught him to use a cup...ugh. I have been known to continue driving, also, especially through treacherous places (ie: I-85 through Atlanta where there was no exit or safe stopping spot in sight!) Once, when I had absolutely NOTHING in the car into which he could get sick, I told him to grab the shoe box from a bag on the back seat (and it was a box with men's dress shoes inside, waiting to be returned because they didn't fit Dad.) So, he proceeded to dutifully dump the shoes and to get sick into that CARDBOARD (of course) shoe box. Know what I did? Once it was full and yes...dripping...I pulled over, set it on the roadside and continued home.
After all, the box...and its contents...were all biodegradeable.
The fun part was concocting a fib when I returned Dad's shoes to explain why I no longer had the box. No way was I going to tell the real story.
I have a friend who knew she was about to be sick while sitting on her commode...while having diarrhea. She simply vomitted onto the bath mat on the floor...then tossed IT into the trash!
Once it was a friend's child in MY car...when I handed him a cup, he used it (while looking at me all the while, saying with his eyes: "You want me to throw up into this CUP?!") Well, when he was done, I took the cup from him since I was stopped at a light, waiting to get onto the interstate in Charlotte. I simply opened the door and lightly set that cup right onto the concrete median.
And THEN there was the time...
Shall I stop now, or continue? I have many vomit disposal stories, just waiting to be told! Maybe I'll create a blog! (Comment this)