I have supermom ears when it comes to the sound of a child that needs to throw up. The slightest groan or stirring will jolt me out of sleep into a hyper-alert state – ready to grab said child and fly him/her to the bathroom. Last night I jumped up a few times… Ready ready ready. I told myself I was being paranoid because after throwing up a few days ago, he’s been fine, eating normally, and playing like usual.
By the fourth time I jumped up, he already knew what I was going to ask him before I even asked, “Mom, I don’t need to barf!” So I laid back down and then…
Yes, those capital letters are the sound of him suddenly vomiting all over the bed. I lept up, grabbed him, and aimed the rest on the rug-less floor – much easier to clean. Then mom power-mode kicked in to override the sleepiness. I washed him up, scrubbed our sleeping area, disinfected everything, laundered the bedding, showered, dragged the spare bed into the living room, and carried sleeping children to their new spots. As I wiped up the mess of half-digested black beans, I was tempted to cry for comfort to the sleeping Brahma bear, but instead I did all of the above like a ninja so he could get adequate sleep for work, my expression of love. Lastly, I opened a window in the bedroom to air it out, and exhaled a sigh of relief.
Finally, at 3:00am, I climbed into our new bed on the living room floor and cozied up with my little “bubbadubs”. As I drifted to dreamland, I thought about getting up to go outside and peek at the blood moon, but instead I yawned and closed my eyes, absorbing the last hours left before my alarm.