Saturday, January 14, 2012

Before you vomit in your mouth, hunt me down and decide to choke the life out of me, or write me off as a cheezy, sappy Disney weirdo please remember this one thing:

This blog is for my children.  I have no choice but to document this most blessed of events in full detail.  It's about the children.

Last Saturday started off with the most dreaded of wake-up calls.  The cry in the night that every parent dreads,  the sound that will shoot us out of bed faster than a black Friday sale:  The "Mom, I'm going to throw-up" cry/yell/cough/gag/scream (you can't really understand this until you experience it, but it really is a combination of all of those).

And that is how our Saturday morning began...

3:30 AM - Bode bursts out of his room like a tornado and made the above dreaded proclamation.  In a fit of fear and dread, Andy and I jumped out of bed, met him in the hall, and dragged him to the toilet.

And the next thing I remember is tasting blood, dry-heaving, and hearing Andy yell my name over and over again in a complete panic.

According to Andy I was standing over Bode while he was throwing up and then I went down. Literally.  Andy said both of my eyes were open and each eye was looking different directions and he thought I was dead.

Side note:  I can remember fainting twice in my life.  That's the point - I remember it.  I remember having that dizzy out-of-body experience where I was thinking, "Oh no, I'm-going-to-faint-but-there-is-nothing-I-can-do-to-stop-it-oh-look-at-all-these-shiny-swirly-things-I-want-to-go-to-them.  This was not that.  This was no warning, no shiny, swirly feeling, nothing.  It was just I'm here and now I'm not.

But let's not dwell on the fact that I am probably dying.  Back to the story...

So after Andy cleaned up my bloody face and Bode's vomit face he put us both to bed and, knowing what I know now, went into the 5 stages of grief:  shock (I can't believe this is happening), anger (why is this happening to me?), denial (No, this is really just a bad dream), bargaining (I will never ask for another thing again if you will just fix this...), and, finally, acceptance (I will wait until 7 and then call the travel agent and cancel this gig right before I go drive off a bridge).

Much to his surprise at 7:00 AM when Andy left for his "very important meeting" we had both seemed to recover nicely.  Besides my ginormous lip and a weird brain fog I felt fine, and thanks to that lovely drug known as phenergan, Bode was already asking for his morning milk.

*This is already getting too long and dramatic (but that's okay because it's for the children, remember?). And speaking of children, they are both yelling for me to do something that they are both perfectly capable of doing themselves so I will return to this story another day.

Until then, may all your dreams turn out better than this one.


Wa Wa Waughs said...

Oh, I missed you. 2 of my favorite bloggers went on vacation this week - what's a girl to read?

I have the fainting gene too. And the same thing happened to me once when I jumped out of bed to tend to Daws. Next thing I knew Dan was hovering over me while the kid was screaming "Call 911, Call 911!" So the moral of the story is: Get out of bed slowly or let hubby handle it.

Alyssa said...

I'm a fainter too. Anything involving a needle...faint. Blood...faint. Loose tooth...faint. And I would NEVER write you off a cheesy or sappy Disney weirdo. Give us the low down of the trip. No detail spared.

Gena said...

We're morphing into each other. I pass out at the mere mention of passing out. Most horrible experiences are slamming my head onto the middle school bathroom floor from four and a half feet up or slamming my head on the tub in college. Stomach viruses are a guarantee pass out moment. On that note, glad you're home! Yes, I will be wringing your neck for leaving me for a week.