I am doing my part in setting a good example for the children. The barfing has spread to NumberOneSon, and the poor lad has finally fallen asleep after being up for hours, alternately watching VeggieTales and spewing his sorry little guts in a Pampered Chef Batter Bowl. (The 8-cup one, not the 4-cup, in case you are familiar with the product line.)
I feel so awful for the kids when they are so sick they puke, but at the same time I feel so awful for me. I am really terrible with vomit. REALLY. TERRIBLE. The stench, the sound, the whole body involvement. It's as if I am also vomiting, right there with them.
Once, when I was pregnant with one of the boys, I think it was HB, MyGal and I had the flu in the summertime. Two of my friends had come over to help me deal, because the Mister was out of town drywalling some guy's house. I tried to be supportive, and catch her puke, and clean it up, but I couldn't even help the poor girl. My other, also pregnant, friends were doing the literal dirty work, sending me out of the room when I was obviously also about to blow. We both ended up in the hospital, on different nights. I was first, it was on the Mister's birthday. I had never been so sick in my life from germs. Once in college I had alcohol or food poisoning and vomited for two days straight, every time I moved. This was similar, except for the fact that I was pregnant, and vomiting like that in the 90 degree heat would make for not such a happy and hydrated baby. My father-in-law took me to the Emergency Room, and kept me supplied with clean barf bags, and wiped my nasty mouth, and stayed with me until they had me admitted with lots of anti-nausea drugs and an IV drip of very cold liquid. The man is A Saint, I tell you. I felt much better in the morning. And HB baked up just fine, weighing 9 pounds 12 and scoring super high on the Apgar Assessments.
MyGal's trip was much shorter. The ER nurses told her she would have to have an IV if she didn't stop barfing. We were out of there in an hour and a half. Willpower. That is the child's middle name.
Oh, Lord Almighty, I hate the barfing. Make it leave my house before it spreads to anyone else.
I feel so awful for the kids when they are so sick they puke, but at the same time I feel so awful for me. I am really terrible with vomit. REALLY. TERRIBLE. The stench, the sound, the whole body involvement. It's as if I am also vomiting, right there with them.
Once, when I was pregnant with one of the boys, I think it was HB, MyGal and I had the flu in the summertime. Two of my friends had come over to help me deal, because the Mister was out of town drywalling some guy's house. I tried to be supportive, and catch her puke, and clean it up, but I couldn't even help the poor girl. My other, also pregnant, friends were doing the literal dirty work, sending me out of the room when I was obviously also about to blow. We both ended up in the hospital, on different nights. I was first, it was on the Mister's birthday. I had never been so sick in my life from germs. Once in college I had alcohol or food poisoning and vomited for two days straight, every time I moved. This was similar, except for the fact that I was pregnant, and vomiting like that in the 90 degree heat would make for not such a happy and hydrated baby. My father-in-law took me to the Emergency Room, and kept me supplied with clean barf bags, and wiped my nasty mouth, and stayed with me until they had me admitted with lots of anti-nausea drugs and an IV drip of very cold liquid. The man is A Saint, I tell you. I felt much better in the morning. And HB baked up just fine, weighing 9 pounds 12 and scoring super high on the Apgar Assessments.
MyGal's trip was much shorter. The ER nurses told her she would have to have an IV if she didn't stop barfing. We were out of there in an hour and a half. Willpower. That is the child's middle name.
Oh, Lord Almighty, I hate the barfing. Make it leave my house before it spreads to anyone else.
umm gross... y would u make a blog about this?
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