Parenthood seems to come with a series of initiations no one really likes to tell you ahead of time. The poop on the fingers was covered quite well by a witty writer over at Sweet Juniper not too long ago. Puke initiation, however, has not been covered widely on the blog circuit.
Let us begin with Monday of last week. It was a normal Monday, getting him fed and pumped up for Mommy and Me Soccer, which is loose translation for pulling weeds from the grass and running in circles 50 feet apart from the class.
Once home, he turned to me with a whimper and fire hosed banana chunks into my hands. It was one of those moments that seemed to happen in slow motion. I was torn between wanting to scream SICK and being a tender mother. I was amazed how The Nurturer in me stepped up and took control, shaking a fist at the rest of me that wanted to run and hide.
He really freaked out watching lumpy, throat-burning bile spew from his mouth over and over. He cried and trembled in fear and confusion. Both of us covered in slime and breakfast, I emptied my hands into the sink and clutched his little, frightened body while ignoring the warm puddles upon our feet.
The word repulsive left my mind and comforting took precedence. I couldn't believe how my voice and assurance everyone throws up it's totally normal dried his tears and simmered his trembles. I felt like I was saying Sure! We all puke all the time, it's loads of fun. Right or wrong, the approach worked. The following week of tummy flu suffering did not include the tears, just snuggles with me for some comfort and rest.
Each time his stomach landed in my hands I was more impressed with how much I could hold without it dripping onto the floor. My clean-up process got faster and more efficient. His role of standing still until I could strip him and wipe him down became rather fluid (pardon the pun). We were a great puke and clean-up team! Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would find pleasure and success in mastering this process. Never did I think I would find satisfaction identifying, after 20 minutes of mystery, that the pink stuff mingled with the apple chunks was Tylenol.
But the most amazing of all to me was the sheer elation I felt watching him become himself again. That busy toddler that talks, laughs, plays cars, runs, climbs, and pushes his limits is back and I have never appreciated his curiosity and defiance more.
