Read this ONLY if you have ever been (or may soon be) a parent.
This story involves things that are exposed that are normally… not. As in, once it has been swallowed, it should stay swallowed, but sometimes doesn’t necessarily stay that way. All too often, inexplicably, for children things that are swallowed do not need stay that way.
I hesitate to say the “V” word.
So, the story progresses…
Once upon a time, only a short time ago, the Jensen family happily returns home from their various daytime activities. Dad was at work. Mom was at work, but then progressed to Krogers, Randall’s, Walgreens, and probably CVS, but who’s really keeping track? Anyway, as planned, she picked the girls up and made her way home, except....
She got the call at about 3:00. “Sara seems to not be feeling well. She’s listless and has a fever of about 100º.” And Momma said, “I’ll be right there!” She works only 5 minutes away. About 45 minutes later she stops by… “So… what’s up!?”
Just kidding. She rips around the corner and picks up both kids and yes, Sara’s a bit warm and coughing. I come home and she’s just fine. And coughing, which is not unusual at this time of year. She likes to cough. Hack and cough and hack and cough. But tonight, it was exceptional.
And then… the barfing.
NOTE!! Unless you are a farmer or an experienced parent, please stop reading here.
It was about 6:30 and the family was watching some crap on TV while Dad was trying to make something edible for dinner. The two girls were bouncing around, as usual, waiting patiently for said dinner.
And it happened. Right on the carpet. Area carpet. In the middle of a tiled living room. Tiled. As in, I spent three days tiling 1000 SF of living room for easy cleaning and she barfs on the carpet.
Of course we cleaned her up. Of course we gave her all the loving we had. Of course she barfed it back up in the kitchen where I have linoleum flooring. I’d have tossed her in there if I had to. Actually, all I had to do was carry her in there leaving a trail of gut goo along the way.
“Sara is throwing up!” her older sister is helping.
So time progresses and the universe gets colder. Sara is now hungry. We feed her water and saltines. Of course! What would you give her? A Happy Meal?! You would.
And me, in my superior parent fatherly wisdom having determined she was all barfed out, said, “Put her in our bed. On my side. After all, she couldn’t possibly barf any more.”
So, an hour later I find our precious angel lying in my bed in a sopping pool of wet saltines. Fortunately it smelled just like a pool of wet saltines. We cleaned her up, changed the sheets, threw the sheets and pillows in the washer machine and re-made the bed. Sara got to sleep next to Mommy. Not before she chugged a good deal of water. If you had barfed that much you’d be thirsty too.
So, about and hour later, Mommy woke up to the choking and hacking of a tiny little person barfing up water and what might have been left of a saltine or two. It’s 2:00 a.m.
Daddy woke up in a heart beat. He turned on the hot water in the bathroom sink and grabbed the bucket recovered from the garage by Mommy earlier. In the dark I cram the green 5 gallon bucket at the rather tiny 3 year old Sara and her Mommy. At the same time I try to turn on the lamp. So, with my left hand I’m stabbing my fingers at a lamp I can’t quite make out in the dark and with my right hand I’m shoving a large green bucket into my daughter’s lap.
Two things happen. While stabbing at the lamp I succeed in only stabbing at a lamp. “What are you doing?!” comes the question from center of bed.
“Turning on the lamp. Sara threw up. Damn it,” I can’t seem to find the switch. “Damn it.”
Mommy sits ups and turns on the light. Apparently her aim is better than mine. Meanwhile, and secondly, I’ve expertly set the bucket up in Sara’s lap.
“Try to throw-up in the bucket, Honey,” I say to Sara.
She replies with all the respect and love she can muster, “I DON’T WANNA THROW-UP IN THE BUCKET!!!!!”
So, she restrains and does not barf in the bucket.
After all, there is the bed, the bathroom floor and the bathtub. Not to mention Mommy. Oh yeah, there was me too. I hadn’t been barfed on in a while.
Once again the bed is made with fresh towels and Sara is in the last clean nighty we own for someone her size.
Oh yeah, I discover that her bed is soaked in wet saltines too.
Damn she ate a lot of crackers.
Lots and lots and lots of freakin’ crackers.
For those of you who aren’t farmers… there’s parenthood.
After all, who else would WANT to deal with the smelly stuff that comes out of those critters we spend WAY too much money on?
Farmers are weird.