Four Feet More

Things began to go a bit better today. It's not that any problems at school were resolved - far from it. But I've kind of graduated into the "acknowledge and move on" phase. Sure there are things about education that suck, and I may not stay in this profession forever. But while I’m at it, I’ve got to do the best job possible and try to keep the complaints to a minimum. They don’t really change anything anyway (but it does feel good to vent sometimes).

So now, the kids are in bed, Jeff just left to meet with a client, and I’m about to settle down to an evening of “Survivor” and knitting. But I thought I’d check on Rupert (my cat) first. I heard some hacking noises upstairs and wanted to make sure the poor guy was feeling OK. I hunkered down next to him and began petting his chin, just the way he likes it. He lifted his head, in what I thought was feline bliss... and then proceeded to projectile vomit all over my hand.

It was not pleasant. In fact, I almost got sick right along with him.

*sigh* I need to remember my mantra: Acknowledge and move on.... Acknowledge and move on....

And I'm going to do that. As soon as I'm done cleaning up the mess.

"Mama! My kakats (poo) is shaped like a fish!"

When do boys stop being fascinated with bodily functions? Never?

*** WARNING **** This is a gross post. Do not read while eating.

My daughter is a drama queen. I'm not talking about your typical childhood drama. Her drama is Tony Award worthy, and we are treated to performances on almost a daily basis.

The last few days, she has been doing the "I'm feeling sick" show. The day before school started, I was sick with a stomach bug. I was dizzy, nauseous, and puking. Not fun. However, Vika was a real champ, bringing me crackers and tea, and helping me in any way I needed. It actually warmed the cockles of my heart, to see her being so attentive.

The next day, she started feeling sick and said she felt like she was going to puke. Thinking she caught my bug, I comforted her and put her to bed early so she could rest. The next day, she was fine until it was once again bedtime. As I tucked her in, she began complaining that her stomach hurt and she thought she might throw up. Due to her vigorous activities and fine health throughout the day, I began to think that maybe my darling daughter might be faking it. When Vika asked if she could watch TV until she felt better, I pretty much realized it was an act, but played along to teach her a lesson. I turned out her light and told her to get plenty of rest so her body could heal. Then Jeff and I hatched a plan - in order to stop Vika from pretending that she was sick, we decided to treat her as if she really were sick with the flu - crackers and tea for breakfast (while the rest of us ate blueberry pancakes), and confined to her bed all day. It worked too – around lunchtime, she finally admitted that she was pretending to be sick so that she could get the same attention I did. She smiled sheepishly and asked if she could please get out of bed and play with Eamon now. I thanked her for telling the truth, but told her she should still probably take it easy today, just in case she really was sick.

Vika then napped for almost 2 hours - something she never does. When she woke up, she looked a bit pale, but said she felt fine. I gave her a banana to nibble on and a small glass of water.

Suddenly, to my surprise and horror, I heard the words, "Mama, I'm puking...." My head swung around to see Vika, standing in our dining room over a pile of vomit. My response: "ACK! Why aren't you doing that in the toilet?!" (I realize that I probably could have been a bit more nurturing at this point, but I was caught off guard) I ran to Vika and tried to lead her towards the toilet. We were doing OK, until she planted her feet right over the threshold to the bathroom, and let loose another bilious mass of banana slime. I finally picked her up and held her over the toilet, but the girl would not kneel down. She kept her knees locked, and refused to get any closer to the toilet than necessary. As a result, she wound up projectile vomiting all over our bathroom wall. What a mess. In the end, I resorted to a "karate chop" to the back of her knees, thereby forcing her to squat in front of the toilet. We really need to teach that girl some puking etiquette.

The moral of the story: When you child says he/she feels like they might puke, ALWAYS believe them. And for God’s sake, DON’T give them a banana. It really doesn’t clean up well.

Eamon: Mama, I burped at the table, and when I burp, it's kind of like I puke a little bit. But that's OK, because I kept the puke in my mouth."

So glad I was done with my breakfast before then!

This evening, as we were finishing up dinner, Eamon decided to get up and clear his table early. He had displayed wonderful manners during the meal, and Jeff and I were feeling pretty proud of him. As Eamon returned to the table to grab another item to clear, something struck him as funny (I can't remember what it was now), and this weird, guttural laugh erupted from his mouth. Eamon's had a bit of a cold recently, so along with this laugh came the ejection of an enormous glob of snot, which then dangled by a mere thread from his nose while the bulk of the mess rested on his lower lip. His mouth was open at the time, making the image too gag-inducing for words.

We all stared at him for a moment in shocked silence, and then simultaneously burst into a chorus of "EEEWWWW!!!" Vika further displayed her repulsion by closing her eyes, shaking her head "no" while waving her hands in front of her face, as if she were warding off some horrendous form of evil. This, of course, made the incident even more funny to Eamon, causing him to laugh hysterically, with the glob of snot still hanging on his mouth.

Needless to say, the rest of us decided to finish our dinner early as well.

I'd always heard the term "snot rocket," but until tonight, I don't think I ever fully appreciated its meaning.