The Bible says, “Out of the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks.” (Luke 6:45).
Well, right now, my heart is overflowing “I AM SICK TO DEATH OF BEING VOMITTED UPON!! I’M SICK OF WIPING VOMIT OFF OF THE FLOOR/WALLS/TOILET/OTHER BATHROOM FIXTURES*! I AM SICK OF THE SMELL OF LAVANDER-SCENTED PINESOL!! ”
You see, we have a small family. A compact family. I have my two small children who are always well-groomed and frequently we dress alike as a family. We don’t confuse our children’s names. We don’t even have a dog (too much spittle), we have a cat (a ragdoll, named Montana’s Café com Leite na Praia). That’s who we are.
We know those families with 4+ children who always have someone ill, who at any given moment have someone bleeding, who are known by name in the emergency room. But we are not them. We know those families who when you talk with them you have to guess to which child they are referring because they generically insert names because they never can remember the specific name of any one child. We aren’t them. (They all live in the Amazon, where there's no cable TV).
THOSE are the families who are always sick, not us. We only have two. We’re the compact family. Until this week.
We were startled late Thursday night with the sound of Blake throwing up. It took me awhile to figure out what the noise was because this has never happened before. The problem with a 6-year-old who’s never thrown up is that he doesn’t know how. I have never thought of vomiting as a learned skill before. Concepts like: “Lean over the toilet, dear”, “Don’t put your hands in your mouth, honey”, and (most importantly), “Precious, don’t turn around to talk to Mommy right now” have to be taught.
About 20 minutes into Blake’s episode, the Cat decided to show some solidarity and she began throwing up. So, we had vomit at each end of the house.
They both got better until Saturday night, when, after rationing him crackers and water for two solid days, I decided Blake was ready for meatloaf. NOT!
Parker got in on the action last night and after three hours, two baths, more chunks of Kitty empathy, more Pinesol, and MANY more wipe up rags, we got to bed.
I called the doctor this morning. He says we’re almost over it. Two more days of eating carefully and we’re home free. I’m so thankful.
Now, if you’ll excuse me I have to go make some applesauce and Jello.
*I would like to take this opportunity to thank the Southern Baptists who have provided, through generous gifts to the Cooperative Program and the Lottie Moon Christmas Offering, such floors, walls, and bathroom fixtures as can easily be cleaned. God bless you.**
**Really. I mean it.