It Just Always Happens This Way

Chris wasn't even half-way through his flight to Jackson Hole for his annual guys' ski trip when Griffin started throwing up.

Yes, I must ask, what exactly is it about single mommyhood that makes my children projectile vomit. Because, seriously, every. single. time. I take on my brood alone some one pukes. It is never pretty. It is never clean. And it almost invariably involves me losing a night or two of sleep.

Daddy leaves and we must puke. That is my children's motto.

After the first round of vomiting from G, I tried to convince myself that it was something he ate or maybe his ear infection (yes, he has a double ear infection too. Score!). I like to try and pretend that I don't really know what is coming down the pike, even when, I probably do know. But then Griffin let loose an abundant round of projectile vomiting that kept him frozen in horror and sent a nice steady stream of vomit anywhere and everywhere around the kitchen, including all over the dog's bed.

(Instead of sweeping G up to get him to the bathroom to minimize the damage, I stood watching him transfixed by the sheer amount of liquid streaming from his mouth. I couldn't move. I am not good in a crisis.)

When it was over, I cleaned Griffin up, calmed him down and settled him on the couch with a nice big bucket. I surveyed the damage in the kitchen and then texted Chris:

"Bad news: Griffin just projectile vomited all over dog bed. Worse news: your running sneakers were on the dog bed."

Meanwhile, my other two children were upstairs huddled in their rooms. I have definitely instilled in them a healthy dose of respect for the catchiness of the stomach flu and therefore, they run for the hills at the sign of anyone throwing up. (They do this in school too. I like it.)

We survived G's stomach bug. But instead of being relieved it was over, I spent the next two nights tossing and turning, utterly convinced that any little noise was the sound of one of my other children inevitably throwing up. (But it never happened. KNOCKING ON WOOD and SAYING A PRAYER, amen.)

But now I am tired. Oh, so very tired. I look forward to my husband returning and taking over vomit watch for me. Not that he needs to, of course, because it is guaranteed that if he is home, the children will remain healthy and vomit-free. (KNOCKING ON WOOD and SAYING A PRAYER, amen.)