Chunderfest 2012

Growing up my Mom handled the times I got sick like a pro. Waking up in the middle of the night to clean up my sick, and comfort me, all without complaining. Even in my sickness induced haze I knew she was a hero. As I grew older the awe turned into the question “how in the heck am I going to handle sick kids if/when I become a parent?” I go the answer that  that question when one of my little charges got sick while I was on duty.

I’ll spare you the gory details, but I was pretty sloppy. There was a lot of running in place saying “aaahhh ahhh, ok. ugg. ok ahhh?” I did the best I could not to look completely disgusted, but I don’t think I did a good job.  I took off my beloved sweatshirt before taking care of anything. (fail) Moved the poor little girl from room to room while I figured out what to do, and always carried her at arms distance. When we finally got upstairs she was left shivering in the bath while I figured out the hot water to hose her off. While taking off the sick soaked clothes I managed to get even more sick on her and the floor. Rather than exuding confidence or even competence during, 4yr’s time of crisis, I was a confused mess. No wonder she wasn’t too keen on me sticking around to comfort her until her father came home. About the only thing to my credit was the fact that I was far more concerned with dealing with the situation than avoiding getting sick myself. Shortly after finishing 4yr, and just before my host Dad came home, I checked on the boys sleeping in the other room. As soon as I opened the door a wave of sink stench hit me like a tsunami. The oldest awoke to say “I think I need to wash my hands.” My reply “Its a little more than your hands…” Just then my host Dad came home and took care of the situation from there.

Just four days later my bad care Karma came calling. My slumber was interrupted with some gastronomic pyrotechnics. Unlike the kiddos its wasn’t a single eruption of the vom-cano, rather a multiple stage explosion of my stomach contents. I had it a few times worse than the kids, or at least I handled it worse than they did. I spent the next day in bed sleeping/feeling sorry for myself. I even called my mom to get some online mommy sympathy.

Moral of the story: whether it is me or others, I don’t handle handle vomit well. This last week has increased my tolerance, and hopefully my immune system.


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