Timing is everything they say. Tonight my three year old is proving that theory. My husband has a big meeting tomorrow, but will be sleeping on an air mattress in the living room so our sick daughter can sleep in our bed with me tonight.
The glamorous life of parenthood
I put her to bed last night and she started whining and complaining. When I checked on her she said, “my tummy hurts, i need to go downstairs with you.” in an obvious attempt to avoid bedtime. (she had a nap that day) I told her no and she eventually went to sleep.
Today we went out to a family breakfast where she ate a little something from everyone. She played when we got back and had a pretty good day. Up until dinner where she became Typical Toddler who refuses to act like a human being at the table and more like a rabid hyena.
She turned back to toddler girl about 20 minutes after dinner. No complaints. Once she started whining I put her to bed with minimal argument. (no nap today)
I’m passing the bottom of the stairs roughly 40 minutes later and i hear this strange guttural choke. Just one, then silence. No crying, no coughing. I go check on her and she’s gagging on vomit. It is all over her bed, PJs, & pillow.
Somehow i’m not yet well-versed in the barf routine. My son has thrown up maybe five times in the near 8 years he’s been on this planet….maybe. It’s still a panicky unclear situation for me. All i know is my first order of business is to call the husband down into the parent trench alongside me.
While I wait for him to come join me, I take her to the bathroom to get out of her soiled jammies. This only works to spread the barf jam through her hair and onto her face and hands. Unfortunately most of the contents are rice, so there’s a good chance of leaving a barf trail wherever we go. Because some fell off her PJs and onto the floor, she steps in it.
Bath. A bath will fix anything!
Except we took a groggy, sick, exhausted and sleeping 3 year old into an interrogation room lit bathroom and turned on the jet engine loud faucet to run the bath…. into which I, of course, drop the giant bottle of bubble bath.
She’s now added shaking to her crying and sobbing. This short-circuits my brain and causes the fight or flight response. I have him sit with her while I go clean the scene.
I immediately wonder why I volunteered for this job and not tub duty. It’s disgusting! It dawns on me that this is only one of two people I would be able to do this for. (kudos to all you nurses)
I do my best and then throw all the bedding into the washing machine. Thank God for those drunk friends from my 20’s that prepared me for such scenes!
Now she’s beside me on the (new) couch in the living room. I give her medicine to talk her body out of having a fever and five minutes later she throws up into the trash can. Poor kid.
I end up taking her upstairs to sleep with me since I know there would be no sleeping for me if she went back to her room. Every creak and fart would surely be her aspirating and choking to death.
So my husband is sleeping on an air mattress in the living room tonight while I get to lay awake and pray my child doesnt toss her cookies all over my bed and/or face. Hopefully i sleep,with my mouth closed!