19 years and four children. From the first meconium poo onwards there’s a lot of bodily fluid that needs to be mopped and wiped and washed from bedding. And most of it I can handle. Blood, sweat and tears? Not a problem. Poo? As long as it’s my own child I don’t even blink. And the stuff that goes in isn’t always much better (which is why in pretty sure I’ll never be one to jump on the juicing craze). Nevertheless I’ve shovelled all sorts of concoctions into the mouths of babes (and there after wiped it from their faces, hands, surrounding area) without so much a flinching.
But there’s one thing I still can’t handle: VOMIT.
It’s an easy route to personal gagging and retching…which isn’t great when faced with a sodden, crying, spewing child who needs comforting and sorting out.
But even then, some situations are worse than others. Baby spew is pretty easily adjusted to. It’s frequency and non-offensiveness make it easier to deal with. It’s when things have chunks it becomes harder.
Nevertheless, I think I’ve got a pretty good handle on in-car travel sickness, thanks to the omni-presence of a plastic Disney bucket and baby wipes. Plus, mercifully, Boo (whose most likely to suffer) is very good at giving just enough advance warning and then aiming accurately enough that we don’t even necessarily have to stop the car immediately although Indy, who last time found herself in charge of the bucket whilst I drove to the nearest layby, would probably argue that it’s still not great.
Definitely the WORST though is the unanticipated spewing.
Strike that. The very absolute worst is the unanticipated nocturnal spew.
So it was with shock and horror that I walked into Noodles’ room last night to find him in his bed, crying, choking and covered from the back of his head to his bedclothes in summer-fruits-squash-and-chocolate-buttons vomit (diced carrots an essential addition, naturally).
I got him out of bed, his little arms trembling, stumbling around the room whilst I ineffectively dabbed at his top with baby wipes. What evil designed the consistency of vomit? It wasn’t making the situation any better and that and the smell made me want to join in the barf-fest.
I wanted to hug him tight and comfort him (and stop him from covering his room entirely in vomit)…but at the same time he was covered and
Eeeew, no way you’re coming near me buddy! there were practical matters to be dealt with.
The not-so-rapid response team – ie Husband – eventually showed up and helped change the bedding (failing to wipe the mattress first or to have any understanding of duvet covers) whilst I mopped and dabbed at Noodles some more until he no longer smelt repulsive. Not easy when it was embedded in his hair.
But even once cleaned up and settled the traumas still weren’t quite over. The early hours of the morning isn’t the best time to be doing laundry, least of all laundry that needs stain treatment. But the cold light of day doesn’t make it any more appealing. And there’s the fear of a repeat experience. Every stomach churn, every gurgle, even once Noodles was back to sleep had me on tenterhooks, worried that there are only so many bedding options. It wasn’t the best night’s sleep.
Mercifully toddlers are resilient and bounce well in so many different ways and so it was that once rested Noodles is back to his normal buoyant self. It’s me whose been left traumatised. But you know, as they say, a trauma shared is a trauma resolved (and etched into the fabric of family disaster to be laughed about at a later date). So thank goodness for blogging, otherwise I’d possibly still be sat in the corner retching.
So what’s your parenting deal-breaker? What’s been your worst vomit-related incident? How do you cope?