Last night, I was one of the people in charge for a rather big event at our church. Luke refused to leave my side, so I let him be my buddy. “You have to stay in the same room as me the entire time, got it?”
“Yes mom, I understand you! Just please don’t leave me! I will be so good!”
Ten minutes into the evening….
“I don’t feel so good.”
Luke’s eyes locked on mine and I knew what was coming. We ran outside to the bushes. What is the proper etiquette for cleaning up your child’s vomit from the landscape of a private venue? Where do you get that minty powdery stuff school janitors have? Well, anywho, mother nature was gracious enough to make it snow and cover it up. Do I leave it at that? What would Emily Post say?
If this had been my first child, I would have made excuses, left my fellow worker bees in a lurch and drove my little bundle straight home. But he’s not. I put two and two together and decided it was a one timer. (There are two kinds of throw-up: the one timer when your child ate way too much junk and needs to get it out, or it’s the you’re-in-it-for-the-long-haul and your child is truly sick.) Let’s see, we went swimming where he swallowed a bunch of pool water, came home to eat a ton of chicken nuggets, and he washed it all down with a jug of chocolate milk. And let’s not forget the packs of Smarties. No fever. I made the call: he’s fine.
How much sickness must a mother witness in order to become so blase about projectile vomit? Maybe after years of condemning swimming pools (a rite of passage for every young mother. If you haven’t condemned a pool yet, don’t worry, your time will come,) and telling school nurses, “Really? He looked okay to me this morning,” I’ve eventually got my sick-o-meter fine tuned. I’m to the point now, where I can call a sickness like an umpire.
“Slight fever, stuffy nose, barking cough….no school! But no doctor’s office either! We’ll hunker down.”
“Mild cough, you have a test today….off to school with ya! You’re outta here!”
This morning I woke up to Luke jumping up and down on my bed like Tony the Tiger.
“I feel grrrrrrrreat!”