Michael was out of town last week on a biking trip in West Texas. It was me and the kiddos 24-7 with no changing of the guard. I wasn't too worried about it. He travels fairly often and since I'm a fairly independent gal, it's not that big of a deal. Usually, the kids and I eat cereal for dinner and watch movies in his office. Then I stay up late painting rooms in my house. This time around I had all sorts of social events lined up.
The first event was enrichment on Thursday night with free babysitting--a whole uninterrupted hour to chat with all my favorite girls. I rushed straight over from Emma's soccer practice and dropped my two older kids off in the nursery. Hurrah! I planned to send Isaiah in there as soon as I had fed him some dinner.
When I got into the cultural hall, everyone was already eating or waiting in line to get their food. Since I was supposed to pass out some visiting teaching surveys that night, Isaiah and I went from table to table passing out papers. That's when Isaiah decided to make the evening truly memorable.
As I was counting to see how many papers I needed to pass down the row, Isaiah let loose with the wet and chunky. All over me and the papers. I turned quickly away from the dinner table. Isaiah still had more to go so I crouched down and tried catching the rest of it in my skirt. I don't exactly know why I decided to catch it on myself. It sounds kind of silly now. But I think I was hoping nobody would notice that my baby was barfing all over me during the Relief Society dinner. I was hoping there would be no mess or disruption and I could just quietly escape. It's not really the thing you want to be known for. Oh, you're the lady whose baby barfed all over her last week.
I was noticed of course. My friend asked me if I was ok.
"Sure," I said. "But we're going to need to make a few more copies of those surveys." I didn't think anybody would want to fill them out at that point.
So I went home straightaway. After something like that, there's only one thing you can do: go home. I suppose I could have washed my shirt out in the sink, but Relief Society dinners are not really the place for wet T-shirt contests.
Well, by the time Saturday rolled around, all the kids had been barf-free for over 24 hours. My sister-in-law was going to watch all three kiddos while I attended a wedding in San Antonio. I was excited to go. I was looking forward to visiting with extended family.
That is, yes, until....Evan, a.k.a. "The Fire Hose," decided to unload in his bedroom. Really, is it too much to ask to make it into the toilet, or the sink instead of all over the dresser and wall and bed and carpet? Just wondering, that's all.
At least it wasn't all over me this time. So much for my social life.
5 comments:
OH yuck. So sorry that you had to deal with so much barf! I would much rather clean a diarrhea diaper than clean vomit.
I can totally relate! This month has been full of puke for us too! Luckily, I'm the only one who hasn't caught it yet... (knock on wood!)
I'm so sorry. I can totally relate to wanting a social outing and having it spoiled by something unexpected. I am grateful it hasn't been vomit though! I LOVE that you can take something so miserable and turn it into a hillarious blog post. You have the best sense of humor! Hang in there! Hopefully by now you're all done with throw up.
oh the joy. my husband is gone all week too. and like you, i am pretty good about being on call 24-7 (totally get the cereal for dinner, etc. - in some ways it is a more simple life!). But throw a stomach flu in the mix and that is almost more than I can handle. You are a trooper!
Why do the barfs always come at the MOST INOPPORTUNE times? I guess it could've been worse...you could've been bearing your testimony up at the podium while holding Isaiah (you do that right? take him up to the podium with you...)And then he could've barfed. Or, you could've been going to your own wedding, to renew your vows...i think it's a little too late for me to be blogging. I stayed up way too late last night watching 11 episodes of Jane Eyre.
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