Only one member of our family actually did any puking, but we all got in on the fun at some point or another. First came Jason:
He was working diligently on his school assignments at UVU library when he decided it was about time for a break. He turned the corner into the restroom and suddenly found himself doing the "I'm slipping but I don't want to fall" dance on a puke covered floor. You all know the dance-arms flailing, body contorting, feet going a million miles a minute, searching for traction. There are two possible endings, both quite dramatic-one: you finally find traction and stand frozen, trying to catch up to what just happened, and two: you totally wipe out and lie frozen, trying to catch up to what just happened. Luckily for Jason, he ended with the former, and gingerly navigated himself through the rest of the puke explosion to the rest of his day. All that suffered contact with the vile stuff were the soles of his shoes.
Rudy and I were not so fortunate, though at least the puke we were dealing with was family puke, which makes it less disturbing, but still just as disgusting. We too, were in a public restroom. I was beginning a diaper changing battle (Rudy has been VERY opposed to complying with diaper changes lately). In an effort to make things easier for all involved (but mostly for me), I offered my planner as a peace offering. Rudy accepted and began investigating. Seconds later, he was gagging on a paperclip. Seconds after that, Rudy, myself, the changing table, and the floor were covered in cheerio scented vomit. Eeeew. The paperclip never did come up, obstinate little thing. I'm still waiting for that to surface on the other end. (Sorry-maybe that's too much information.)
Anyway, I pulled my sweater off (thank goodness for layers) and got Rudy's icky clothes off him. Then I commenced the tedious task of wiping up the puke with wet wipes and toilet paper. I suppose I could have simply told someone that the restroom needed some janitorial attention, but I still needed to change Rudy's rank bum, and I was in stressed out minimal thinking mode by then anyway. I finally got the bathroom somewhat clean again, and undid Rudy's diaper. Just as he did a deft full body twist, I realized the wet wipes were still in the sink where I had rinsed the puke off of them. I carried poor Rudy, pink bum dangling, over to the sink and attempted to clean him up with him standing in the sink. Not the most effective of strategies. By the time Rudy was clean, the bathroom needed another spot job, and I was sooo done being a mom for the day. When we got out of the bathroom, I just let Rudy waddle off (within sight) to give myself some space from him and hopefully regain my composure before getting on with our day. Then some lady came to Rudy and asked: "Where's your mommy?" An innocent and caring question, I know, but in my state all I heard was, "You poor abandoned child, you must have the most irresponsible, unloving mother in the world. I bet she's high on crack." I snatched Rudy out of her clutches, gave her my most icy fake smile, and stormed off. Poor lady. Poor Rudy. Poor self-pitying me. I'm happy to say, that within 15 minutes, I had come to my senses and realized that the whole thing was actually quite funny, and it became even more funny when Jason shared his puke in the bathroom experience. To commemorate the day, and remember that humor is always a better reaction than anger/frustration, I have dedicated all future April 3rds to Family Puke Day. Not quite sure how we'll celebrate yet...but I'm sure we'll come up with something great in the year we have to think on it. Any suggestions would, of course, be welcome. :)
*UPDATE* Rudy successfully passed the paper clip on Sunday morning! I've never been so excited about a dirty diaper! Jason and I paraded Rudy around on my shoulders and sang a ridiculous little impromptu song about Rudy's great triumph over the paperclip, much to the confusion and perhaps even slight irritation of my family (they had not yet heard the paperclip story, and we were interrupting General Conference with our ruckus). Ah, the joys of parenthood.
P.S. I decided that the Puke in "Family Puke Day" should stand for Pouting Ultimately Kills Enthusiasm and have the holiday be all about having a positive attitude-like we could decorate with smiley faces, tell jokes, etc. I haven't run that past Jason yet, though...what do you think, my love?
No comments:
Post a Comment