When I became a mother, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. (Though I thought I knew everything about being a mom–until I actually became one.) Sure, other moms warned me about sleepless nights, and if you started cosleeping, it’d be hard to turn back.
How come no one warned me that my boobs would leak at the most inopportune moments? Or anytime your child spit out something, I’d automatically reach out and catch it?
When my daughter was a toddler, she was an adventurous eater. By adventurous, I mean she’d want to try every sample at the grocery store. As I pushed the shopping cart down the aisles, she would beg for a sample. She wasn’t discriminating. As long as it was on the end of a toothpick, sat on an h’or d’oeuvres napkin, or miniature paper plate, she was game. Guess she’s a sucker for presentation, just like her mother.
Being a toddler with sensitive taste buds (or so the parenting books told me), she only liked about 20% of the samples. Instead of taking it like a grown up and just swallowing everything, she would immediately spit it out. Without any warning, right there in her cozy shopping cart throne.
My hand would automatically reach out and catch it. What the heck was I thinking? What am I supposed to do with it after I caught it? It must be a mom instinct. One that lay dormant in our DNA. Until that fateful day you first set eyes on your child. Maybe this special talent developed when humans were hunter-gatherers and food was scarce.
Just in case you don’t think I like kids, I do. I even taught some of those snotty nosed, drooling, nose-picking kids. They were cute. I just kept an arms distance from the ones with excess fluids flowing out of their noses or mouths. If they even looked like they would vomit, well, let’s just say that’s what assistants are for, right?
Now I have one of those snotty nosed, drooling, nose-picking kids. And dammit, I love her. Just not her snot.
Don’t even get me started on my own kid’s vomit. The first time I involuntarily caught my kid’s vomit, I almost threw up myself. It was all over. There was no escaping the joys of motherhood. I mean, shouldn’t I just let her puke all over the floor and let some poor grocery store employee clean it up? Nope, my hand just whipped out there to catch it!
But then again, it was better than when, just a few months ago, my now 4 year old toddler climbed into my bed at 3 AM. She whined that her stomach hurt and then threw up all over my back. And the bed. Did I mention I was half asleep and it was 3 AM?
Yup, gotta love being a mom.
This post was inspired by Beth Feldman‘s essay “Sanitation Mom” from See Mom Run: Side Splitting Essays from the World’s Most Harried Moms, also edited by Feldman.
Read some more harried moms’ stories at DC Metro Moms.
I received a copy of this book for review.
Like the site !!!!
Eeeew! I know it wasn't funny at the time, but I assume by this post that you're at a point where you can laugh about it now? 🙂 One of those stories to re-tell down the line when grandkids hit the scene and create a new generation of vomit memories . . .
I can definitely laugh at it now. I wear being vomited on as a badge, like the medal of honor.
I'm very lucky that I can only remember one vomit incident – although I have many bloody nose stories!!
eww! I can proudly say I've never caught vomit. Gum, yes. chewed veggies, cheese and chicken, sure. But vomit. Never. And across your back may be even worse.
I'm not very quick off the mark, therefore, I usually stand and look at the vomit all over me and the carpet rather than catching it. However, when it comes to poop I am all over it…literally. I have manually removed poop from a constipated kid or two, given several enemas, examined blue poop after a blueberry feast, and told a toddler not to lick the toliet seat at McDonald's. I know…I nearly barfed as well.