Gastric Juice, Coming Right Up!

What a week…where to begin?

Friday 12/30: Known to me as the Puke-A-Thon. Betsy hates that word, so I’ll call it the Driving-the-porcelain-bus-A-Thon.

At about 2PM we were heading out for lunch, and had just driven through the entire parking lot at the mall to find a spot. We had just pulled everyone from the car, set up the stroller, had Sophie ready to walk, and – it happened. Sophie surprised us…no warning, no announcement, just a quick gagging noise, and out it came. A stomachfull of lunch, crackers, cheerios, water, and I’m not sure what else. The best part? She hurled in the only other open parking spot in the lot. Now, I’ve seen some impressive ways to reserve a parking spot, but she gets an “A” for creativity!

It was over so quick that I thought (for just one moment) that we could just continue on…after all, that’s what I used to do after hurling. Of course, that was usually due to drinking beer after liquor (“never sicker”). Betsy corrected me. It was time to go home. She had already pulled out the spare outfit that she had prepared for this kind of occasion out of her “Super Mommy” utility belt, and changed Sophie.

The way home was great too – we hit traffic (of course), and Sophie spent most of the ride getting out whatever little bit was still in her stomach. Luckily (for me), she got most of it on herself and not the car (wow, that sounds cruel). To put it another way, the “spill was contained”. The amazing part was that she wasn’t complaining too much – she would just groan, cough, and vomit.

After getting home we took her to get a bath (“No Bath! No Bath!”), which was probably the worst part of the afternoon for her. She wanted to lay down, so I laid with her in the “big girl bed”, which she quickly puked in. Great, another outfit, and change the sheets on the bed.

Now, it’s into the crib (where she usually sleeps). She hurls again. Change the sheets (and her pajamas), and get her set up again. We tried to lay a towel down in the bed, but she would have none of that. We let her lay down again, and had a grocery bag set up so we could grab it in case she was ready to hurl again (known as the “Gag Bag”). She seemed OK, so we left.

Five minutes later (this was now about 4PM) we hear the now familiar “Gag and Cough” (not to be confused with “Shock and Awe”), and before we got to the room she had ruined another pajama/sheet set. This was a first – usually when Sophie vomited it was a one-time incident.

We actually (for about 0.2 seconds) thought about leaving the Gag Bag in the crib for her to get sick in if we didn’t arrive in time – but the 2000 warnings on those bags (“Do not leave bags with children you dope”) finally paid off. I can just imagine Social Services arriving: “OK, let me get this straight – you left a plastic bag in the crib with your child. Can you read? Are you unable to interpret the circle and bar symbol on every plastic bag ever made in the US?”

Instead we got her out of the crib, brought her downstairs, encased the couch in towels, and sat with her for the rest of the evening until she was able to go more than 30 minutes without yakking. That wasn’t until 7PM.

Then we finally started the laundry.