misadventures in parenting//the vomit diaries

Life has been a tad crazed these past months. Death in the family & death of a furry friend. Sickness and then some more and then sickness, sickness, everywhere. This post isn't about death and it isn't about swine flu. This is about vomit...

I feel the same way about vomit as I do about poop and periods. Shouldn't happen and if it does, please, lets not talk about it to any lengthy extent. Seriously, I beg of you. I am not good with bodily functions and, yes, sometimes I do ask myself -- so why the kid? Because kids poop a lot! And when they get sick they vomit and I had a girl so, yes, one day there will be periods. I am equipped to handle the period talk and I was fine with the baby poop but this vomit thing. Man, I'm never going to get it down.

When Bailey gets sick she vomits. 

She had a viral infection and she vomited for an entire week long. And, sure, I had swine flu at the same time so I had to stay away but, also, I just can't. Seeing her retch makes me cry. I just can't handle it. Also, the act of someone vomiting makes me dry heave. I'm not productive to be around. So Husband handles the vomit and I take care of the snuggles after. But I still hate myself for my lack of anything remotely productive in this area. 

Cue a week later, when you get a call from your kid's school that you need to come pick her up because vomit, well...

I walked into the sick bay and there was my kid, all forlorn, and covered in carrot chunks. The chunks had bunched at the feet and it was like she'd stuffed her shoes with vomit for extra comfort or something. She'd vomited in front of her entire class. On the carpet. And here she was all carrot-chunky and my first instinct was to laugh because I'm just that good in a crisis. But, also, it felt like her pores seeped vomit and she only wanted me to hold her and, maybe, I definitely, cringed a bit.  But then I picked up my vomit-laden child who was very sad about having to leave school and I was one-on-one with vomit and carrot chunks and I survived.

But, also, if there's one thing that nobody tells you about parenting it is this --

Washing vomity clothes is really bloody hard and you think you've rinsed all the vomit out and then chuck the clothes in the machine and life is all fine and dandy. But once the machine stops and you open it up you realise your mistake because the vomit is like pasta and it's quadrupled in size and then you're left scooping vomit out of a washing machine like a damn fool.

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