Technicolor Puke Day

As my children get older this parenting gig is starting to give me a little more breathing room. They play together for long periods without fighting, and without needing me to be right there all the time. I spend most of my time with them reading out loud, making three meals and as many snacks for them to inhale, and supervising cleanup, occasionally I have to break up a fight. This leaves me with several moments of the day when I can begin to see that I may actually begin to get to things I’ve been ignoring for several years now. All this is just in time of course for me to find out that there is another on the way and I will soon be back in the thick of diapers and breast feeding, not that I’m quite done with either of those at this point, and sleepless nights. I appreciate the perspective that this time is giving me though. I now know that there does come a time when it gets easier to be a mom, and when the routine changes, and when things slow down in a way, and I can look forward to it through the days when it seems overwhelming. Days like the Technicolor puke day of a year ago. If you had told me I was pregnant that day, I may have cried, for a long time.

We were living in Vancouver. The Genius husband was working nights and the kids never saw him so I was parenting solo. For some reason he was gone in the morning that day as well and had forgotten his caffeinated peppermints on the kitchen table. Why he ever brought them in from the car remains a mystery. Three of these mints have as much caffeine in them as one cup of coffee. The Boy, then three, got into the kitchen before I did and rapidly consumed at least twenty of them at once and dissolved several into a cup of old tea that he then drank from. I didn’t know about this when he went upstairs to play with the neighbor’s son, We traded childcare so we could do basic things like shower, laundry, dinner, though the kids all liked being upstairs way more than being downstairs with me, I guess I’m less fun. I was preparing to get into the shower with the Girl, then one, when I found the caffeine bombs on the table, and in the tea. I had no idea how many he had eaten, because I didn’t know how full the tin was before he emptied it. A second later my friend upstairs brought him down and said, “ He told me he was sick and needed to throw up but it looks like he just spit food on his shirt.”

She had just fed him blueberry juice and cereal. Still hoping to get a shower I take the Boy and the Girl in with me as he’s covered in food and complaining that he’s cold and she just needs to be near me. He keeps whining about being cold as the shower continues so I get him out and wrap him in a towel leaving the Girl in the tub with the water. At this moment he projectile vomits blueberry juice all over the bathroom floor. Taking a moment to be glad I wrapped him in a blue towel, I throw it over the vomit and mop it into the corner. He is shivering and clammy and keeps telling me how cold he is so I run, still naked and soaking wet, to the bedroom on the other end of the house to find him some warm clothes. As I’m digging in the drawer for some pants I hear, “MOM, Carmina pooed.“ I run back with a shirt in my hand to see the Girl standing at the edge of the tub screaming as she tries to get away from the giant log that is floating toward her.

Strategy:
Remove child from bathtub and place on potty even if it’s too late.
Fish feces out of the bath water and place in toilet.
Drain bath water and place all bath toys in bucket with a mental reminder to disinfect before they are used again.
Rinse tub.
Stop rinsing tub when clammy child reminds you with a whimper that he is still cold and put on him the shirt you came in with.
Turn back to the tub; turn back at the sound of gagging just in time to be on the receiving end of another blast of bright purple Technicolor puke.
Remove now dirty shirt and run back to bedroom to find clean one for shivering child.
Return to find that the Girl has wondered off of her potty and has decided that the floor in the kitchen under her high chair is an ideal place to pee.
Throw another towel on the pea.
Turn on shower and rinse off self and both children from pee, poo, and vomit.
Dry off children and place diaper on the Girl, not that there is any point she’s already done all the damage she can for now.
Finally wrap a towel around self.
Try to get the Boy to drink some water while putting his clothes on him.
Put the poisoned boy in bed.
Call husband to find out how many caffeine bombs were in the tin.
Call poison control.
Listen to man at poison control exclaim, “He ate how many?”
Calm down a little as he explains that the vomiting is a good sign; he probably got most of it out of him that way.
Hang up and check on the Boy. He’s asleep.
Put on clothes.
Start to clean up pee in the kitchen and vomit in the bathroom.
Start a load of laundry.
Run back to answer the phone, poison control is calling back to check on his status.
They will keep calling until he wakes up and I can describe him to them.
Finish cleaning bathroom floor.
Put clothes on the Girl.
Answer the phone; no he’s not awake yet.
Call the Genius husband to tell him how his son is doing.
Eat breakfast.
Hold the now awake Boy in lap and check him for signs of clamminess, excessive energy (definitely not), nausea, etc.
Tell poison control that he is no longer sweating and that he has asked for something to eat.
Sigh in relief as they tell you he’ll probably be fine.
Feed Boy.
Collapse in an exhausted puddle in the rocker and think about how funny this story will be when it’s retold.

I swear I’m not exaggerating one bit of this, it all happened just like that.