Okay, wait though. There is this ONE story...
I'll make it brief, but it shows the distinct difference between a dad who DIDN'T spend an entire 24 hours getting puked on by a kiddo last flu season v. a hardened veteran of projectile vomit.
Every night we split bedtime duties. Ben reads to Kate while she drinks a glass of milk, and then I do bath time. Usually during story time, I'll be picking up Kate's toys or some other mundane chore, but this special day, I had decided to lock myself in the study to surf the Internet. Which made it hard to hear when Ben was screaming my name from Kate's nursery at the other end of the house. I thought I heard something so I stopped typing and poked my head out of the study to listen. I then heard my frantic husband yelling while my baby wails. My first thought is that she had seriously hurt herself so I go running through the house and slam open her door. I see her sitting on Ben's lap bawling. He is looking seriously stressed. But I don't see blood or anything, so I'm all "What in the WORLD is wrong?!" to which he gives me a look that says "You have GOT to be shitting me" and says all indignant like "SHE THREW UP ON ME. SEEEEEEEE THROW UUUUUPPPPPP."
Kate throws up and my husband is shocked into inaction. Like, the only thing he could think to do was call ME. Because obviously I am an expert at dealing with puke. Just call me the Vominator.
So I swoop in and grab Kate to cuddle her and try to make her a little less hysterical and give Ben a moment to collect himself. I feel her little body heave and I'm all, "Here we go ladies and gentleman" and I pull her back just the slightest bit so she would throw up on me instead of over my shoulder onto her rug, crib and other things that would take more than shower to get clean. I immediately head to the bathroom where she again soaks me. Sweeeet, I needed one more for the road. I strip Kate down and climb into the shower with her and finally get her to calm down.
Ben in the meantime, was spurred into action and was cleaning off the chair, the floor and himself. He even did a load of puke laundry. So while I may give him a little grief for just sitting there with a vomit soaked toddler until help arrived, he at least was an awesome hazmat crew.
I guess we all have to be good at something. Ben sweetie, you complete me.
3 comments:
such a family affair. I recall all the laughter that resulted from her projectile vomit in the Outer Banks on me!
Haha, nice. There's nothing like a story about vomit to make me laugh.
Vomit makes my husband helpless, too!
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