Three Ring Circus

Most of my family (minus the Middle Child) was sick from the Friday before Thanksgiving through now (a couple are still sick).  In hopes that we would still have our annual Thanksgiving celebration at our house, I trudged through my head cold.  I did all the activities that I normally would, to get ready, less the food buying and preparing.  I figured if we miraculously recovered I would shop and prepare the day before our celebration, scheduled for the Saturday evening after Thanksgiving, because of work schedules.

On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving I had a 12:30 doctors appointment.  I awoke to the Middle Child complaining of a stomach ache and headache.  “GREAT!”  I thought we all had colds, not stomach stuff.  I figured we would all get that next.  In hopes of keeping my appointment, and so that I wouldn’t have to pay the cancellation fee, I urged the Middle Child to go back to bed and rest.

Here’s the thing about the Middle Child when she’s sick:
      
A:  whenever she is sick she insists on being out in the family room on our ginormous Corda Roy's King Size Corduroy Foam Bean Bag, infecting the rest of us and telling all of us to be quiet because she doesn’t feel well.

B:  when she has a stomach thing that involves vomiting, she usually ends up getting an IV  because she dehydrates.

And C:  when she vomits she insists on using our very large, Blockbuster, plastic, popcorn bowl.  When she begins to vomit she gets up, vomits into the bowl, as she’s walking through the house looking for me.  This makes me crazy, because I can’t help her as well holding the bowl, as I could  if she would just vomit in the toilet.  I have to hold her hair, make sure the bowl doesn’t tip or fall, and try to hold her stomach and head.  It doesn’t work that well and then I have to empty the bowl and rinse it out.  Gross!

(I’m sure you’re wondering why I don’t insist that she stay in bed and use the toilet to vomit.  To be honest she is pitiful when she is sick, especially with stomach stuff.  And, she has had so many IV’s with stomach flu’s that I really would rather have her out where I can keep an eye on her.  I become a softy when she is like that.)

OK, so now that you understand the situation, here is how the morning played out, as I got ready for my appointment.  “Middle Child, just rest, don’t eat or drink anything, let your stomach calm down.”  “Nobody go near or bother Middle Child, she is sick!”  I continued to do things around the house; she vomits twice over a two hour period.  I begin to re-think the doctor appointment, but she seems to improve a bit.  I think to myself “I’ll only be gone an hour and a half, if she gets worse the older kids (who are babysitting) can call me and I’ll come home, get her and take her to the doctors.”

I get ready to get in the shower, the water is running and I am naked.  Middle Child bursts through my bedroom door as she is vomiting, into her yellow bowl.  My bedroom door is adjacent to the bathroom door where I am standing naked with the water running.  Across from both doors on the wall, hangs a full length mirror.  So, if you are walking down the hall, and my bedroom door is open, you can see in the mirror, that I am naked! 

As she stands before me vomiting into the bowl, oblivious to the fact that I am naked, I notice that her hair as fallen out of her scrunchy.  I hurriedly try to tie it back so that she doesn’t vomit on her hair.  I am yelling at the top of my lungs for the Organized Child to come help me.  I’m thinking hold her hair while I try to hold her head or stomach and the bowl.  The Organized Child tells the Oldest that I am yelling for him.  How she got that is beyond me, their names sound nothing alike!  About the time Oldest is running down the hall to help me, the phone rings.  The Organized Child, who wouldn’t answer the phone if her life depended on it, decides that this is an appropriate time to take a call.

As Oldest approaches my room he sees in the mirror that I am completely naked and the Middle Child is vomiting in her bowl.  He begins to shudder and gag at the site of both of us.  I yell at him to hold her hair, so I can help her.  He grabs her hair and squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he possibly can!  As the Middle Child starts to slow her heaving, I swiftly grab a towel, to at least hold up in front of me, so that I don’t warp my 17 year old son for life.

The Middle Child continues to vomit, at this time, the Organized Child makes an appearance at the door talking on the phone.  She looks to me with that “do you want to talk to whoever is on the phone” look.  I hiss at her “WHO IS IT?!” while trying to hold up my towel and help the Middle Child.  She sweetly looks at me and replies to the person on the other end of the phone “sure do you want to talk to her?”  “Are you KIDDING me?!”  I think.  I take the phone and manage a seething hello!  My father, on the other end of the phone, senses my frustration, stress and anger and very bluntly says “I’ll talk to you later.”  All that for I’ll talk to you later?  My head is going to explode.

By now, the Informer and the Little Man have made their way into my room to find out just what’s going on.  They are underfoot and both rambling a mile a minute, “Mom, Mom, Mom!”  The Middle Child has finished this round, hands me the bowl full of stinky bile, heads off to wash up and plop back into the bean bag.  Oldest has bolted in order to recover from the trauma of seeing his mother naked.  The Organized Child quickly realizes I was not a happy camper and makes a fast get away.  I send the little ones packing and I got into the shower.

After getting dressed, I called my Dad back to apologize.  He said, that he told the Organized Child, not to bother me if I was busy.  I wonder what she thinks BUSY is?!

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