Note: If you have a weak stomach and can’t handle stories about barfing or pooping, hold off on reading until tomorrow when hopefully, all of this will be behind us.
I earned my mommy stripes tonight. I know it’s just part of being a mommy and I’m fine with that but, I think I might deserve a promotion after tonight.
I promised Hannah pancakes for dinner tonight. This morning for the first time Luke had frozen pancakes for breakfast. I didn’t think Hannah would mind (she can’t eat them because of her egg allergy) but she broke down telling me how unfair it was that he can eat them and she can’t. “Mommy, you really shouldn’t serve one child something the other can’t eat. It makes the one who can’t eat it feel very, very sad.” were her exact words. (How old is she anyway, 25?) So I promised to make her pancakes from scratch. She scarfed down 3 huge pancakes “yum, yum yumming” the whole way down. She then grabbed a Kit Kat for dessert. Half way through the Kit Kat she started gagging and saying she was going to throw up. I ran with her into the bathroom and she threw herself in front of the toilet, heaving.
Luke thought there was some sort of party going on in the bathroom so he darted in behind us. Hannah’s gagging noises interested him even more and he started laughing and imitating them. She threw up twice as I rubbed her back trying to figure out WHAT had made her sick. Not surprisingly, she didn’t care much about the why’s and just wanted to stop feeling so sick. She gets super paranoid about throwing up (uh, yeah, she got that from me) and refused to move her head even an inch. She was so afraid of throwing up again. So, I let her sit there. And sit there. And sit there. All the while (60 minute or so), Luke was running in and out of the bathroom. At one point he grabbed the plunger and started trying to smack Hannah on the head with it. Usually this would have set her off into a screaming fit but in her nervous, puking state she didn’t say a word. Not one word as he swatted the blue rubber toilet apparatus at her head. I grabbed the plunger from him a few times but he kept grabbing it back and swatting her again with it. “Dammit, get your head out of the toilet” is I’m sure what he was thinking with each swing. Either that or, “What’s down there anyway? Let ME see!”.
I finally managed to wrangle the plunger out of his hands and after a few more attempts at reaching into the toilet and climbing on her back, he decided he wasn’t interested in our party and went on his merry way. I heard him emptying all of the DVD’s out of the cabinet and turning the TV on and off on and off… it was a free for all for him without mommy around.
I finally asked Hannah AGAIN if she wanted to get up and lie in the family room and she said she was still too nervous that she was going to get sick. “And I really have to poop too mommy”.
“Ok, then get up and sit on the potty.”
“No. I’m too nervous and oh, it’s coming out mommy. It’s out.”
And it was. Out. And I asked her to stand up so that I could remove her pants and the poop and she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t move her head. She wanted me to pull her pants off of her while she kneeled in front of the toilet in case she puked again. So I did. Or I tried. But pulling her jeans off one leg at a time while she grasped the sides of the toilet made it a little difficult. And the poop was everywhere. Everywhere. All over both of her legs, her feet, her butt, the floor… me.
“I’m sorry mommy, what a mess I’ve made. I’m sorry.”
And I consoled her and told her it was fine. I told her I didn’t care.
“Oh but it smells so bad mommy. Yucky! But you know what mommy? I feel all better now! All better! I guess I just needed to poop! Let’s go have a bath!”
And that was that. Happy Hannah back. She had a bath. She watched TV. She sang a song for daddy when he came home. I however can’t get the grossed out look off my face. And Tim wouldn’t let me explain to him what happened when he got home. “Why do I have to hear all about the poop? I’m just glad she’s ok!” he said.
So, I’m sorry but, I’m sharing with you. Because I know you’ll listen. So, thank you. And you can forward all recommendations for my promotion to my husband. Or did I just skip this part of the job description?