Children are disgusting

I was getting my pilates on at the Y yesterday when someone from the childwatch came in to tell me that The Boy was throwing up. My first thought: oh no, I hope he's okay. Second thought: gross.  Let me set the record straight right here and now. Children are disgusting. Anyone who says it's different when it's your own kid is lying to you. They put their hands in nasty things. They put nasty things in their mouths. Nasty things come out of them. Their vomit is disgusting. Even when they are your own.

I peeled his wet clothes off and put him on a fresh set without gagging. He was acting fine, so we went to the grocery store before we went home. Then it was nap time. Nap time goes like this: I put him down in his crib and shut the door. He cries for a minute and then sleeps for exactly 30 minutes. I run around like flight of the bumblebees doing laundry or work or anything that needs two hands or less than an air traffic control amount of background noise. 30 minutes. 30. minutes. If I'm really lucky I may get 45. We get two of these a day.

Thirty minutes came and went. Then 45. Then an hour. WHAT?! You would not believe the amount of things I was doing. I was completely manic. I cleaned like the way you clean when your in-laws are on their way over right now for a surprise visit. I baked two chocolate pound cakes. I called the Lowe's repairman. I started a casserole for dinner. He slept for three hours. 3. Hours. I thought this must be the way those do-it-all moms do it all. Their kids are good nappers.

When he woke up I tried to get him to eat some lunch.  Then, as he was sitting there happily eating some crackers, up it came. He spurted up his lunch all over his shirt, his lunch, the tray, and the high chair. He made a pitiful little cry like he was confused and he didn't like throwing up. I made a little cry like I realized I'd be in charge of clean up. Cleaning up vomit is bad enough, but holding a wet, smelly, crying baby while you do it makes it even worse.

He seemed to feel better throughout the day. I made him some plain pasta and he ate it quickly. He was climbing on the furniture when the next wave came. Splurt. It was like a fountain flowing out of his confused little face. And there was the pasta. Whole. It was like watching him eat in rewind. Gross, you say? I agree. Oh, and this time it was on the couch, and on the floor, and on me. I picked him up and wiped him off so I could hold him without him slipping through my hands. I kicked the dog out of the room because she was way too curious. I stripped my pants off right there. Still holding stinky baby, I started unzipping and peeling the covers off the couch cushions to wash them. The Boy promptly crawled up on the cushionless couch and looked for treasures. He found a pacie, which he hasn't used in at least 6 months. I was fighting with the cushions with my hands and wiping vomit off the floor with a paper towel using my foot when I noticed The Boy had something in his mouth. He wouldn't offer it up voluntarily so I had to do a pry finger swipe. What's that? Oh, just a Shiner Bock bottle cap he'd found under the cushion. Excellent. In the midst of it my bare hand touched vomit. Yelch. The Boy climbed down off the couch, into the vomit and tracked it on the floor. I yelped.

When The Husband came home there were no cushions on the couch. They'd been stripped of their covers and were stacked high on top of the chair. There were cracker crumbs on the ottoman, and in addition to the toys scattered around, there was a sippy cup of pedialite on the floor. The hard wood floor was wet with cleaner. The dog was locked out. I had no pants on. The baby was naked. Welcome home, hon! Want some dinner? When your kid has a stomach bug and you're fixing dinner for yourself you can't help but think "what would I not mind potentially throwing up tomorrow?" It's a fact. Kids are disgusting. He's much better now, thanks for asking.