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puke

School Age DaysThe StoryToddlers

Tales From The Toilet

by Jill November 8, 2013
written by Jill

Today has been a pukey, poopy day. Kendall has the flu.

Ugh. UGH.

Flu B, as confirmed this morning at the walk-in clinic. So far, he’s the only one who’s showing signs of it, but I’m just waiting for us all to start dropping (while also hoping so hard that doesn’t happen because NOT THIS WEEKEND).

Related, kinda? We have been trying to buy a new car for a week. The only thing stopping us is we can’t find time to get to the dealership and sign on the dotted line. So many first world problems making me want to cry into my peppermint mocha.

The blur of our day, made up of puking and and scrubbing and cursing makers of bright blue colored children’s medicine, came to a pause when Leyna got home from preschool. I just got Kendall out of the bath in our bathroom, and she insisted I let her in.

Hold on… let me go get a gallon of bleach to sanitize this place.

I poured the water and the bubbles, and heard Lowell getting fussy in the other room.

Oh… right. I have to feed that one at some point.

So I kept the doors open to the bathroom and got settled on our bed. Just as I latched Lowell on, I started to hear Leyna talking to herself, which is entirely normal for a toddler taking a bath solo. Or for a toddler doing anything. I didn’t pay much attention until I heard, “Ohhhhh no. Oh no. No, tummy! No! MOMMY I HAVE TO GO POOPY I HAVE TO GO RIGHT NOW!”

I unlatched my sweet 3rd-born (He Who Is Neglected Often) and ran to drag her out of the tub and over to the toilet, all in about 10 seconds. We made it just in time. She leapt off the seat 20 seconds later. She insisted she was done. “No more poopies!” were her exact words. LIKE A FOOL, I believed her.

So I placed her back in the bathtub, returned to the bed where my baby, luckily, was still laying there, having not learned how to roll over in that short minute and a half. I put him back on a boob.

“Mommy! MOMMY MY TUMMY THERE IS MORE POOPIES!” she shouted approximately 2.5 seconds later.

I put Lowell back on the bed as he stretched my nipple with him, clamping down with a face that seemed to say, “R U KIDDING ME?”

I made the same mad dash from bathtub to toilet, dripping toddler held in front of me.

She squeezed her tummy. It seemed to be mostly gas. Then she said something… grunted something. It sounded like, “I have MONSTER poopies!”

I silently died from funny inside, while trying to stay looking concerned and motherly on the outside. “You have monster poopies?” I asked to confirm.

Her eyes widened and she threw herself off the toilet. “I HAVE MONSTER POOPIES?!”

She looked back, terrified.

“What? NO! I thought that’s what you just told me, Leyna. No! No, monster poopies,” I reassured her as I tried to wrestle her back toward the toilet. << epic fail on the “calm” voice

It was all I could do to get her back on it. She’s probably afraid of it now. Forever. Still no clue what she said except that it had nothing to do with monster poop.

********

2 hours later, Leyna’s in her jammies, all ready for bed. I see Kendall hobble into his bathroom as I begin reading a book to Leyna.

I check on him, and he tells me he needs to throw up.

UGH.

So I sit there with him, rub his back, try not to look or smell. Try to just not even mentally be there in that moment and hoping he doesn’t notice I have tried to stop breathing through my nose.

Poor fella. He is retching over the toilet, willing himself to throw up, and having no luck. He’s miserable.

Finally, I tell him, “Well…. buddy, you want to try to make yourself throw up?”

He looks at me with approving eyes.

“Okay, you just gotta stick your fingers back in your thro-” and before I can even finish the sentence he does just that.

The results were instantaneous. Projectile vomit like I have never seen in my life, all over the bathroom wall. 95% did not land anywhere near the toilet bowl.

His reaction was equally instantaneous. “WHOA. That. Was. An. EXPLOSION!!!” He was truly in awe.

“I was not expecting that!” he told me. “That was pretty awesome,” he gloated.

BOYS!

I patted him on the back, wiped his face off, changed his clothes, then closed the door to the bathroom behind us, and left that scene for his dad to clean up because NO MORE! I’m done.

Goodnight moon, goodnight puke, goodnight bathroom and the red balloon… or something. I’ve had wine.

Obviously.

 

November 8, 2013 21 comments
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How Can We Escape Puke & Poop?
Parenting LOLZThe Story

How Can We Escape Puke & Poop?

by Jill November 5, 2012
written by Jill

That was Scott’s question to me earlier as he cleaned out Leyna’s little potty after she successfully filled it to the brim.

“Uh… go to an island without them?” I replied wistfully.

It’s been that kind of day. I laid on the couch most of it, convinced I was dying from some awful plague only after ruling out every possibility that I could be pregnant. I’ve been nauseous off and on for the last few days, but never to the point of puking.

Because I fight puking with all of my being. Every last ounce of energy is used to NOT EVER PUKE. 

I started to feel better this evening and suggested we go out to dinner since I didn’t feel like cooking and the kids were anxious to get out.

Little did I know that Kendall was actually serious when he told me his tummy hurt right before we left and wasn’t just playing me for bottomless soda.

“Mommy, my tummy hurts. I don’t want to eat anything. I just want to drink soda. 10 sodas.” << THAT’S WHAT HE SAID. So obviously I thought he was just being… smart.

Until he ran to the bathroom as soon as we placed our order at the restaurant, and then puked all over it.

And then all over his bed at home.

Twice.

I’m glad he obviously hasn’t inherited my puke-phobia. Sorta.

The good news is I’m most definitely not pregnant because that’s not contagious. (And because, seriously, it would be impossible… but the contagion factor really sealed it for me… beyond the negative pregnancy test I took this morning. I have issues. I know.)

To entice him to stay in bed and “rest” (a.k.a. stay in the room that is already contaminated), I let him watch the Disney Jr. app on the iPad only after I stuck that bad boy in a Ziploc bag.

Feel free to pin that shit. “How to protect your iPad from your puking child,” or “DIY puke guard for the iPad.” I’m so clever.

And tired. Good night.

November 5, 2012 21 comments
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PregnancyThe Story

We saw the baby, and I don’t like chocolate…

by Jill August 29, 2007
written by Jill

Two very reassuring signs that all is well with this pregnancy.  The spotting that freaked me out was very insignificant, and by the time I made it to the OB’s office yesterday, I felt guilty for even being there.  I felt like I should have the Niagara Falls of blood gushing down my legs to justify the intensity of terror that I was feeling.  One of the very good things that came out of my visit though was that I LOVE my OB’s office.  The doctor I met with was BEYOND helpful and reassuring, and even went out of his way to convince me that I did the right thing by coming in (although I know deep down I was no different to him than the millions of other paranoid freak first time pregnant women he’s dealt with).

My husband came along, and even though I wanted to strangle him for telling me to just “calm down”, I knew he was just as scared as I was.  Not only did he do a remarkable job maintaining his calm demeanor as another man shoved foreign objects up my vagina in front of him, but he also managed to hold back the majority of his OCD and germaphobe fueled comments and questions.  He admitted to me at lunch after the appointment that he was really concerned that the speculum hadn’t been cleaned properly.  He asked if I could feel if it was dirty, and confessed that he was “this close” to asking the doctor if he had sterilized that since the last patient!  And I assure you this was a visibly reputable establishment.  I didn’t go meet up with some hillbilly doctor in the back of his Chevy El Camino.

The paranoia worked in our favor this time.  We got to see our first glimpse of the teensy, tiny, itty- bitty life growing inside of me.  We couldn’t see a heartbeat yet, but the doctor assured us that everything was looking just right for how far along I am.  And now I’m going to do that thing that all new soon to be mothers do that the rest of the never been pregnant world can’t understand, nor is interested in.  I’m going to show you my ultrasound picture….and you most likely will cock your head to the side, try for half a second to figure out where the hell the baby is, and move on…that’s okay.  I want to show it anyway.

Awwww!!!  Okay, now that that is out of my system ( at least for a few more weeks) I will end this entry by saying that it’s crazy how much you WANT to feel sick when you are pregnant.  Not that I enjoy it.  I personally despise feeling like I need to puke all the time, and that I may pass out at any moment from the insane dizzy spells I’ve been having lately, but it tells me that there indeed is some foreign body growing in me that is so healthy that even at the size of an apple seed it has the power to make me see stars when I stand up too quickly and to make me dry heave at the mere thought of certain smells.

My final sign of reassurance at my appointment came as we were checking out.  The receptionist had some of those Rocher chocolates on her counter for the patients, and I thought I should try to eat one since I was feeling so dizzy.  As soon as I bit into it, I discretely spit it right back out.  NO amount of hunger or dizziness could have made that chocolate taste good to me.  Now that, my friends, is all the evidence in the world that I need to let me know someone else has taken over my body – the fact that I would much rather have a fresh tomato or pickled okra over a whole box of chocolates.

August 29, 2007 7 comments
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