Monday, October 30, 2006

A photo of the Big Whompers post-puke - note the towel covered chair, the blanket covered babe, and the shiny bowl next to her waiting for the next offering. Poor thing, but at least it was a transient illness. I suspect food poisoning or an overdose of crackers, raisins, and strange candy consumed in the quilt shop that afternoon. After a few hours she was begging for food and jumping off the furniture.
I must admit, when the vomiting illnesses strike I approach the kiddos with much trepidation. Yes I love you sweetie, and I'm sorry that you don't feel well, but please don't touch my mouth and let's all go wash our hands again. A couple of years ago our beloved daycare provider retired, and the new daycare, while adequate, was just not the same. The provider had a school aged child that managed to get sick frequently, and she never felt compelled to let us know when was going to be home acting as a vector of disease. Even so, if she had made a bit of an effort to keep him separated from the other kids, I would have maybe taken my chances. But there were several occasions when Ehemann went to drop off Big Whompers that this child would be running about in the middle of the day. "Oh, he puked last night, but he seems okay now, I kept him home just in case." That same holiday season I gave my Thanksgiving dinner up to a toilet in a relative's schmancy guest bathroom, and spent New Years day exchanging time on the bathroom floor with my father (whom my mother had never before seen vomit in their 30+ years together). Needless to say, when the opportunity arose to eliminate daycare, there was not much hesitation on our part.
Perhaps if I could vomit with such aplomb as my daughter I could handle it - Big Whompers merely announces "I don't feel well", then leans over and expels her insides. Her only comment is usually "Oh no, my Shirt, Pants, Shoes, etc." Ever concerned about appearances, I guess. I, on the other hand, must lie in wait on the bathroom floor until the episode is complete, then brush my teeth until I have removed a couple of layers of enamel and moan about how awful I feel. There is the sweating, the tears running down my face, the uncontrollable shaking. She however, just leans over, pukes, and walks away. Hang onto that gift kiddo, it will serve you well in college.

Friday, October 27, 2006

A new and anonymous blog! A place to talk about my husband (Ehemann) and kiddos (Big Whompers and Little Whompers), but also about me, myself, and I. Perhaps a chance to get a few creative thoughts out while documenting the Whompers antics and waxing poetic about life with Ehemann.