Speaking of Donald Trump… I don’t think it’s a coincidence my youngest woke up with gastro this morning.
We’ve all been there. It’s 3am and you hear the little tip toes coming down the hall, your door opens and you hear a pitiful voice
“I’ve been sick…”
Your instinct to cuddle and croon kicks in just as the acrid smell of fresh vomit fills the air. The Husband went to M3’s bedroom to pull the bed apart while I look after the tiny miserable figure that is shivering in the door way.
Vomit is my least favourite thing – aside from the after effects of Tequila – in the world. Anyone who has ever known me for longer than a day will know that I dry heave at pretty much everything. I once walked into my M1’w room to a mass of poo and vomit – I simply closed the door, rang my fireman husband and demanded he come home with the fire truck and hose that sucker down. Bastard wouldn’t do it and just laughed like a maniac knowing that I would vomit over the top of my poor child while I cleaned him up. Even to a sick two-year old, Mummy doing the dry heaves (and sometimes the wet ones) is hysterical in a lethargic poo yourself type way.
Back to M3, I cleaned up the dribble, changed her clothes, grabbed a ‘vom bucket’ and put her into bed with me. Husband had declared the spare room his domain for the remainder of the night (you clean a vomit bed in our house, you get first dibs and future favours) Within 15 minutes M3 was vomiting again. Thankfully she’s smart enough to grab the bucket and I pulled her hair back. (Pulling her hair back reminded me of a twenty something bonding moment in a nightclub, but that’s a different story). We ended up getting out of bed and sitting together on the lounge, vomiting and watching Good Morning America. Unfortunately, we missed a full episode of Skippy which was a bitter disappointment to one of us.
It’s now lunchtime and M3’s appetite has come back with a vengeance. I’m almost tempted to starve her in anticipation of a vomit-free night, but apparently some would suggest that’s bad parenting. Please God, have some sympathy and make it stop…
That’s for both Trump and the squirts.