I told Trevor before Carson was born that I would rather change every dirty diaper from now until eternity if it meant I would never have to deal with throw up. I've repeated that statement at least 117 times since.
I'm not kidding.
I hate vomit and I know everyone does but I really can't take it.
Well today my nightmare came true.
I had taken the boys over to the new house to nap this afternoon so that I could do some painting. They both slept well. Carson got up and I let him watch "Chip Dale" on the DVD player while I cleaned up the paint. He watched for awhile then was running around helping me and asking me to paint, my answer to that question was a definite no! At one point I asked him what he was doing and he said, "goin downstairs."
Then I heard it.
A little cough, followed by some gagging noise, then that awful sound that you never want to hear.
Part of me froze. If I didn't turn around then maybe it really didn't happen and then I wouldn't have to clean it. Right?
Right.
Well, I knew that thought couldn't last and that awful sound just kept coming. So I turned around to find my son christening my brand new carpet on the steps.
Lovely!
I picked him up and ran to the bathroom but that was pretty much a lost cause. We cleaned up and sat down to cuddle together. I said nothing short of 57 prayers that this was a one time thing. Keep in mind that my cleaning supplies were limited because we haven't moved in yet. That was fun trying to find something to clean it up with. Luckily my husband saves every sock, t-shirt, boxer, whatever known to man for rags and we had brought those over last week. I never thought I would be thankful for that dreadful pile of cotton.
So we sat and I prayed and about 15 minutes later I heard it again.
I'll spare you the rest of the details but he continued to make said noise every 15 minutes for the next five hours.
I've done 3 loads of laundry.
Been puked on.
Got puke in my hair.
Took a bath with him since we both stunk.
And rocked him to sleep for what I hope is a peaceful night.
I'm not kidding.
I hate vomit and I know everyone does but I really can't take it.
Well today my nightmare came true.
I had taken the boys over to the new house to nap this afternoon so that I could do some painting. They both slept well. Carson got up and I let him watch "Chip Dale" on the DVD player while I cleaned up the paint. He watched for awhile then was running around helping me and asking me to paint, my answer to that question was a definite no! At one point I asked him what he was doing and he said, "goin downstairs."
Then I heard it.
A little cough, followed by some gagging noise, then that awful sound that you never want to hear.
Part of me froze. If I didn't turn around then maybe it really didn't happen and then I wouldn't have to clean it. Right?
Right.
Well, I knew that thought couldn't last and that awful sound just kept coming. So I turned around to find my son christening my brand new carpet on the steps.
Lovely!
I picked him up and ran to the bathroom but that was pretty much a lost cause. We cleaned up and sat down to cuddle together. I said nothing short of 57 prayers that this was a one time thing. Keep in mind that my cleaning supplies were limited because we haven't moved in yet. That was fun trying to find something to clean it up with. Luckily my husband saves every sock, t-shirt, boxer, whatever known to man for rags and we had brought those over last week. I never thought I would be thankful for that dreadful pile of cotton.
So we sat and I prayed and about 15 minutes later I heard it again.
I'll spare you the rest of the details but he continued to make said noise every 15 minutes for the next five hours.
I've done 3 loads of laundry.
Been puked on.
Got puke in my hair.
Took a bath with him since we both stunk.
And rocked him to sleep for what I hope is a peaceful night.
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