A Story About Vomit

If you are ever in a group of parents, you might find yourself having to listen to stories about poop and vomit.  And let’s be honest, it’s not necessarily a great topic, but once you have been through it yourself you feel the need to let other’s in on a little bit of your world and how much you must love your kids after having to deal with that!

We have had what I think is more than our fair share of the vomit predicament as Kyla will literally vomit at the drop of a hat.  I’m not joking, if she did not want that hat to fall there was a time that she would work herself up so much that it would result in vomit – EVERYWHERE.  This is why sleep training didn’t work out so well for us, despite the fact that neither Seth nor I are hard hearted enough to let them cry it out anyway.  Thankfully she has started being able to control it a bit more and tries to breathe through it (the cutest thing that you have ever seen).

Riya on the other hand will try her best not to ever experience this traumatic event, and in a small way I am grateful, but on the other hand, sometimes it’s just so much better to get it out.

I wouldn’t bore you with a story of something normal, but please beware the following account contains a lot of chunky vomit and lots and lots of it.  If you are queasy and have a vivid imagination, this might be the place to stop reading.  Riya’s special incident a few nights ago deserves to be retold, but not at the expense of you losing your breakfast too!

So here we go.  I put the girls to bed as usual, lying between them with Kyla playing with my fingers and Riya with her fingers entangled in my hair.  They both looked to angelic lying there.  So peaceful.  So quiet.  Blessed with this wonderful stillness in the house I feed the dogs and then settled in on the couch with book 1 of the Hunger Games.   I managed to fit in a half a chapter (which is probably about 15 minutes of reading) before I heard Riya crying bitterly over the monitor.  I ran as fast as my pregnant legs and weird back would let me to find out what was up.  It’s very unusual for her to be awake again so early.  All I found was my poor little girl sitting in the middle of the bed, sobbing her heart out.  It was very clear that something was bugging her.

As I struggled to pick her up she put her head on my shoulder and shortly thereafter let out the most disgusting burp.  No little person should have that amount of air in their body – like ever.  Obviously, because she doesn’t vomit, I thought it was over.  Boy was I wrong.  I had to literally run straight to the bathroom (which thankfully is not that far away) and got her to stand on the potty/step to vom straight into the toilet.  This kid is clearly out of practise with this whole business and proceeded to projectile vomit right over the toilet, ensuring that not only did it hit the wall, it also destroyed about R300’s worth of magazines that were in the magazine rack.  Then she vomited on both sides of the toilet seat.  This is quite a feat because she was standing on one side and not even in the middle.  Then she managed to do it all down her clothes.  By this point she was hysterical and all she wanted was a cuddle from Mommy.  But there was no way that was going to happen without a bit of a cleanup first. So I put her on the bath mat to start to the process, and again this was a bad decision as this led to chunky Vienna infused vomit being all over the bathmat and floor.

Finally I double checked with her that she really was done, and she kept saying “betta, betta Mommy” through massive amount of tears and chunky drool running down her chin.  Finally I got the dirty clothes off, and got to cuddle my poor monkey.  Minutes later Seth got home to find a totally destroyed bathroom.  Welcome Home Dad!

Seth actually took pictures of the war-zone left behind mostly out of disbelief, but I will not expose them for fear that you may actually loose y our breakfast.

And that is how you should teach your kids how NOT to do it!