The Night I Got Thrown Up On

My kid is sick. Not like hospital sick, thank God, but feeling really crummy nonetheless. He's got a barking cough and a green 11 streaming out of his nose. He's been up for nights with a fever and my typically active boy just wants to be held. He's also incredibly, uncouragably irritable.

We went to the ped's office on Wednesday. I called first thing and they asked if we could be there in 15 minutes. I told them we'd love to if they didn't mind us showing up in superman pjs. So we did, cape and all.

Our doc said it was a croupey virus and gave us a prescription for a steroid. We filled it and set in for the 'roid rage, just hoping it would make him feel better. We waited. And waited. And still he felt gross. And even more irritable. Saturday night The Boy was feeling particularly bad. He cried. He wanted to be held. He wanted to be held with his head on my shoulder. He said his shirt hurt, so we took it off. He said his pants hurt, so we took them off. He was burning up so we dosed him up with Tylenol.  I stayed home with him while The Husband went to go watch basketball with some friends. "Are you sure it's okay if I go?" He asked. "Of course," I said. "We'll just lay around and watch some tv before bed. He'll be easy."

The Boy with Puppy, his lovie

Husband: buddy, do you want some dinner before I go?
Boy: No!
Husband: how about some grapes?
Boy: No!
Husband: pasta?
Boy: No!
Husband: crackers?
Boy: NO!
Husband: banana?
Boy: NOOO!
Me: ice cream?
Boy: NOOO!
Husband: cookies?
Boy: NOOO!
Husband: biscuit?
Boy: uh huh.
Husband: yeah? I'll fix you a biscuit. ( starts to fix a biscuit)
Boy: biscuit! (Crying) BISCUIIIIIIT......

So his daddy put some biscuits in the oven on his way out but when the timer went off the poor guy didn't want me to put him down to eat it. It was just the two of us and I let him curl up in my lap on the couch to eat. I put his favorite show on and we settled in for the night. He laid on me and ate his little biscuit while he watched tv.

When we'd been couching for awhile he sat up, looked at me and began to cry. Poor guy felt really  bad. I stroked his hair and asked him what was wrong. And he threw up all over me. I saw it happening and there was nothing I could do. All down my shirt and all in my lap. I was covered in vomit and he was crying demanding "wipe!" He wanted me to clean him, and now. What to do first?

I picked him up of my vomit lap and stood him on the ground. He cried. I peeled off my vomit shirt and my vomit jeans and left them in a pile on the floor. He cried. I grabbed some wipes and wiped him down. "Mama, hug" he cried. I scooped him up and held him close, still in my skivvies. He curled up to watch tv again, and even wanted more biscuit. I was hopeful he felt a little better.

After a few minutes he said "biscuit stuck!" and opened his mouth. There was a wad of biscuit stuck on the roof of his mouth and he didn't know how to get it out. I stuck my finger in his vomit mouth and scraped out the biscuit, which made him throw up again. All over me. This time I didn't have clothes to peel off. Warm biscuit vomit on my skin. I wiped him off. I wiped me off. He cried "mama wipe!" and pointed to my sports bra. He didn't want to touch me when there was vomit on my bra. Let that sink in for a minute. He didn't want to touch me because his vomit was grossing up what little of my clothes there were left. I felt too bad for him to care.

The next day we took him to urgent care where we were told he had a "boatload of green, puss-ie, mucus drainage" that was causing him to throw up. Um, thanks? Poor kid is still sick with a temperature but I'm hoping for no more vomiting. Ever. At least til he's in college.