Vom on Mom

It’s been a rather sneezy time around our household lately, and we have been hoping against hope that the sniffles would pass without incident.  But last night around 10pm, we heard crying coming from the kids’ room.  It wasn’t Babygirl.  It was Babyman, hot and shaking and moaning: “I don’t feel well…My throat hurts…My tummy…” And he tried to stand up in bed (not a good sign) so I reached to pull him towards me.  As I started to pick him up, he coughed a deep cough and vomited all over both of us.

“Oh, it’s okay, get it all out,” I whispered as he sobbed quietly.  My husband, who had been trying, in the darkness, to set up our ridiculous, state-of-the-art humidifier (overzealous new-mom purchase: only the BEST in humidifiers will do!), came hurrying over to bundle Babyman off to the bathroom.   Before I stood up to join them I checked the bed and the carpet to see what kind of cleaning needed to be done.

Nothing.  Not a drop of vomit had hit the floor.  It was all on me.  And you know what I felt?  RELIEF.  No stripping the bed, no scrubbing the carpets, no airing out the room.  Phew.

Yes, you read that right: I have reached a point in my life where I would actively prefer to have my children throw up on me than on the floor or the furniture.

People talk a lot about how babies and children will impact your life.  “Ah, now you will truly know what love is.”  Be still my heart.  “They’re a total game-changer, and there is nothing you can do to truly prepare.”  Amen, brother.  “Two are not twice as much work.  Two are ten times as much work.”  Yeah, I’m getting that.

But no one ever tells you that having children means you will develop an intimacy with human waste that would have positively repelled you in your pre-child days.  And that’s okay.  Because when you are pregnant, and the rigors of childbirth are staring you in the face, all you want to know is that the minute you hold your baby in your arms the earthly world will melt away leaving only you, your sweet-smelling peanut, and the love.

As a brand-new mother, it’s a very surreal — almost out-of-body — experience when, a few days later, you are halfway through your dinner and you suddenly realize you have spent the whole time talking to your husband about gas, constipation and poop as casually as the Golden Globe nominees (not that you have any idea who they are).  But over time you realize that it’s just the new normal.  You will congratulate your baby for burping.  You will chuckle when your wobbler clings to the edge of the coffee table while pooping — even if you have guests.  And when you are potty-training your preschooler, and he announces to strangers in the elevator that he’s “using the potty, and there’s a lotta pee coming out!” you will answer him with a resounding “Yes you are!  You are SUCH a good potty user!”  And you won’t feel the least bit awkward about it.

Babyman seems to be doing a bit better today, and for the first time in a week, Babygirl is napping without whimpering.  Perhaps it’s a 24-hour bug, and we’re done with the puke and left only with the snotty noses and the coughing in the face.  Which, let’s face it, is easy as pie.