*originally posted in March 2011. And, warning: bodily fluids mentioned in this post. if you have a weak stomach, you may want to skip this one.
You know those stories of mommas who suddenly gain super-human strength in order to lift a car that her child is stuck under?
I had one of those moments this weekend.
No, there wasn’t any car lifting going on, but I found that I had suddenly gained my own momma superpower. The ability to withstand puke.
I know that for some folks, puke is puke and you can be all whatevs around it, but I’ve never been one to be okay around it. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve puked in the last 20 or so years. I hate it. So much. And I cry like a baby every. single. time. and that’s when it’s my own puke.
Others’ puke? Fuggetabboutit. I have been known to run from the room, covering my ears and going “lalalala” — because hearing it is just as bad as seeing it. I try, try, try REALLY hard to be okay around it when a student has a puking incident, but it takes all of my strength to keep relatively calm and call the custodians while trying to assure a vomit-covered kiddo that it’s okay, it happens. But I’m doing that while holding my breath, trying not to cry, and all the while, inside, I’m going “ew, ew, ew, EWWW!” Yup, I’m *that* mature.
Before we brought Lil’ CB home, I told Mr. Cowboy that I would gladly do poopy diapers, etc, but that when it came to puking, I really needed that to be his domain. And being the awesome hubs he is, he agreed, knowing my serious aversion to puke.
Lil’ CB’s been battling a fairly gnarly cold and the other day, while Mr. Cowboy was out (natch), he woke up cranky and wouldn’t eat but two strawberries for breakfast. Being the eater that he is, seeing that was a big indicator that my boy was not feeling well. He started to doze off, so I picked him up and carried him upstairs to see if he would go back to sleep in his crib. I was holding Lil’ CB in my arms and just about to sit in the chair in his room when his breathing got very shallow. He had his head on my shoulder and then looked up at me. And before I knew it, poor Lil’ CB was projectile vomitting all over himself and me.
The poor guy didn’t know what hit him! He had a stunned look on his face, accompanied by a beard of white vomit on his chin, before bursting into tears.
It was all over my hair and shirt and inside the hood of my sweatshirt. It was all over CB’s moose jammies and it splattered all over the carpet. The shape sorter bucket happened to be sitting on the floor and a good amount of vomit landed in it, too.
But here’s the thing.
All I could think was, “My poor baby is sick!” and I wanted to cry. I didn’t have the urge to shriek and run out of the room. I didn’t get all grossed out. All I wanted to do was hold my sick child and make him feel better.
I got Lil’ CB out of his soiled jammies and kept him in the onesie he had on underneath. Understandably, Lil’ CB was clingy and upset, so I wasn’t able to change my clothes right away. Meaning, I sat with puke in my hair and on my shirt and in my hood for a good 20 minutes. And I was okay with it. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was keeping my baby safe and helping him feel better.
After some water and some cuddle time, Lil’ CB started to regain some strength and even ate a cracker or two.
My parents were in the area and came over to watch Lil’ CB and keep the dog away while I tackled the stains in the carpet and the cleaned the shape sorter bucket. And even then, as I was cleaning Lil’ CB’s puke, I was totally fine. I was just so happy that my son was feeling better and glad to remove the traces of sickness from his sweet room.
I even (and this is really pathetic) thought that Lil’ CB’s puke was the cutest puke I’d ever seen. All he’d had to eat that morning was strawberries and milk, so it resembled strawberry yogurt. I know, gross. I’ll stop.
It’s amazing how becoming a new momma changed my perspective on all this and seriously gave me the strength to do something I never thought I’d be able to do. And on top of that, I was able to do it joyfully.
I still think other people’s puke is disgusting, but my son’s vomit, even when it’s all over me, isn’t bad at all. And I’ll joyfully clean it up any day. (But I’d be okay if it wasn’t everyday.)
And, don’t worry, Lil’ CB’s feeling loads better and back to his silly antics.
And that’s blueberry juice on his face, not puke.
What are some Momma Superpowers you’ve discovered?