One Thing I Just Cannot Do

So...The Great Stomach Flu of 2017 recently visited our family. And when I say visited, I really mean it wormed its way in and I thought it was never gonna leave ...

Anyway. I thought we had all but conquered it. 

But then last night. . .

Last night, Addison started to whimper in her room as Adam & I were just settling in. It's important and relevant for you to know that I never suggest bringing a kid to bed because then it's an unending cycle we battle for weeks. But I didn't realize what I was saying before it was already out. 

“Wanna just let her sleep with us?"

And there it was.

And before Adam even got back to our room with her, I thought to myself “that cry...the one that she's crying right now, THAT cry...that's a sick cry." But then she snuggled right in, like a sweet little angel. And I never gave it a second thought.

Until…I was between the awake/asleep phase and something like the first warning shot came bellowing out of the wee one in the form of a half-hiccup, half-burp. She stirred.  I guess I was more asleep than I realized, because I just turned over and drifted off again. 

Now fast asleep but awakened from the distinct guttural sounds of wet, chunky vomit.  To make matters worse, it was Dollar Burrito night at Taco Villa and the Little One had her share. 

Adam is covered.  I leap out of bed and dash to the bathroom.  Then Adam starts to holler and squeal for me to take the Little One.  So I do, holding her at an arm’s length away from my body; carefully yet swiftly getting her to our bathroom.  I stand her on the floor and I hop into the shower hoping to escape the burning smell that is now starting to make my eyes water.  But it’s here that I start to gag.  Because you see…I can handle a lot.  Like most anything kid-related.  But I cannot handle vomit.  I see, hear, or smell it, and nope. . . just nope.  

(One time, Sawyer ate his weight in guacamole, and then it came back out several hours later.  They say smell is the strongest sense.  When I think of that time, I can immediately remember how awful and pungent that was.  There was green E.V.E.R.Y.W.H.E.R.E. ~ primarily on Adam, yet again.  Also, I'm pretty sure he threw those clothes away too...anyway, I digress.)  

Nine years of marriage has taught Adam that this is the one thing I cannot do.  So he knows what’s about to come from me as he pulls off his shirt, vomit plopping to the floor.  He takes her and I start to lose it.  A few minutes later from our bathroom I hear the bath water running and I’m still “losing it.”

Things finally settle down and I find myself holding the Little One that started all of this.  

Adam is stripping the bed, starting a load of laundry, and throwing away his clothes. . . I’m covering my nose to avoid getting even a slight whiff of the linens as they pass by. 

I’m giving specific instructions on how to do the laundry (because there was this one time that Adam used the washing machine ... ... ... annnnnd ... ... ... it was disaster…).  Anyway, like a deer in the headlights, he’s taking it all in.  And while he’s working away, BAM!  It comes to me.  My first Bloem…(Blog + Poem).  So it’s from this vomit-induced, less-than-three-hours-of-sleep, I’ve-taken-longer-naps-before, stupor that this Bloem is coming to you.  

Annnnd it lacks talent.  And worse?  It rhymes.  But if I haven’t ever given you a reason to doubt my writing ability, here it is.

One Thing I Just Cannot Do

I can do:
Boogers & eye goop;
Toe jam & insane poop.

I can do:
Stubbed piggies & hang nails;
Jammed fingers & ingrown toenails.

Pink eye & kids who get motion sick,
Ear aches & burrowed in ticks.

I can do:
Breathing treatments & colds,
Skinned knees & weird skin folds.

Smooshed thumbs & diaper rash;
Dry patches & bugs in eyelashes.

I can do fevers and seizures but one thing I just cannot do...don't hand me a kid with the stomach flu.

Finally, just a few closing words:

1. I'll never make her take "just one more bite."
   (That's fake news ... you know it's a lie and so do I.)
2. If a person were to be weighing the Pros & Cons of parenthood, this would definitely be a con.  No one tells you just how much stuff can come from such and eensy weensy human.
   
   Also
3. Kids are disgusting.

After it was over and we were heading back to sleep, Adam glanced at the monitor.  I couldn't see her and I thought that she was back up. When he looked, this is what he said: 

It looks like there's a cooked chicken in her bed.  Doesn't it?  ...Seriously???  Right there!  It looks like drumsticks!

***Goes to check on her and returns***

It's ok...the drumsticks are her legs and the chicken's body is her diaper...


Yeah.  We were that tired.

From the Fullness of His Grace,

Lacey