This picture is better than vomit

Vomit

Do you ever look at your toddler and think, gee I’m lucky that he/she doesn’t… (insert gross/awkward/scary/dangerous/obnoxious thing that other kids do)?

 

Well stop right there. Whatever you do, don’t complete the thought. Why? Because the universe has a way of punishing smug parents. And the punishment is brutal.

 

Of course, those who are publicly smug cop it in spades down the track, we all know that. We have all stood back and quietly chuckled as the parent whose child “never has tantrums” is carried out of the supermarket over a shoulder, kicking and screaming, shoe missing and snot flowing, all because they weren’t allowed to have a Freddo Frog.

 

But I’m here to tell you, don’t even think that smug thought. Not even for a second. The universe can hear that smarmy little voice in the back of your head, and the universe will do it’s very best to punish you for it.

 

How do I know? Because vomit.

 

Just the other day I was sitting at the dinner table with my daughter. I watched her happily much away on whatever she was eating (I can’t remember, but I bet it had cheese in it. It always has cheese in it). A thought popped into my head. A little, seemingly innocuous thought, right out of nowhere. I thought to myself, “Gee, I sure am lucky that Hannah never vomits. Some kids vomit all the time, and if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s spew.”

The thought was there, and then it was gone. A flash of lightning in an otherwise clear brain. If you had been there, you wouldn’t have even known it had happened. The thought didn’t even hang about long enough for me to stare into the middle distance contemplating it.

 

You wouldn’t have noticed it, but the universe did…

 

Not even 24 hours later, I was driving my car with Hannah strapped safely into the back seat. We were driving to my doctor’s appointment less than five minutes away from home.

By some kind of apparent miracle (it was not actually a miracle, it was the beginning of the universe’s great act of vengeance) we had made it out the door early and still had some time to kill.

Rather than sit in a dull waiting room where Hannah would quickly become bored, I thought I would treat her to a nice scenic drive. After all, she was in a new booster seat that was much more upright than her last and she was able to see out the side window far better than ever before (can you hear the evil laughter yet?).

The drive took us up a winding hill (surely you can hear it now…). It was really pleasant. Until it wasn’t.

 

I heard a harsh cough come from the back seat. That was nothing unusual, Hannah often picks up little bugs that make her cough. She coughed again, and this time she cried. That was unusual. I was just around the corner from the doctor’s surgery, so I thought I would keep driving and give her a big drink of water when we arrived.

 

Then I heard the sound.

 

The sound of cough, followed by a splatter of wet. It is a sound that is etched into the back of my mind, right in the spot that the smug thought briefly occupied. It took me a moment to register, and in that moment, the rest of Hannah’s stomach contents was unceremoniously dumped all over her, her new car seat and my upholstery. My precious car – the car that I have loved for years, the car that I have kept free of accidents and diligently maintained – was covered in vomit. Oh yeah, and my daughter, she was also covered in vomit.

The smell hit me like a slap in the face. My first reaction was to vomit in sympathy (I really don’t do well with vomit). But I held it in. My car may have been wounded, but a chunder-covered dashboard would be fatal blow. I had no choice, I had to drive us back home and deal with the mess.

I made a sharp turn and jumped on the accelerator (right up the legal speed limit, Mr NSW Law Enforcement, if you are reading). Hannah was now crying, distressed and confused about what had happened. I tried my best to console her, but that is very difficult to do while manically weaving in and out of traffic driving in a calm, sensible and safe manner.

On the way I called the doctor’s surgery (yes, on hands-free, get off my back about the road safety already) and politely informed them that I would not be making my scheduled appointment due to a vomit-covered toddler. The receptionist sounded sceptical at first, but the screaming from that back seat of a toddler who really doesn’t like being covered in her own regurgitated lunch helped to reassure her that I was telling the truth.

Finally we were home. I scooped Hannah out of the car and removed the soiled clothes, right there in the garage. I wiped off the vomit that was on her hands and immediately she calmed down. Turns out Hannah just really hates having vomit on her hands.

We went upstairs and I bathed the now perky toddler. I washed her hair thoroughly, but as vomit does, it clung to her hair in a desperate bid to remind us all about the experience. It took another solid wash that night to return to normal.

 

Once Hannah was all good, I returned to the car to survey the damage. I won’t gross you out with a written recount of the gruesome clean-up effort – why waste words when pictures can fill in all the gory details?

 

 

Vomit

 

 

After much scooping, scrubbing and disinfecting, all the visible vomit was removed. The new car seat (thankfully) has removable and machine-washable fabric, so it may, just may not have to be thrown in the bin.

 

As for my car… anyone want to buy a second hand hatchback? Never been in an accident, diligently maintained, always garaged… smells vaguely of child vomit.

One Messy Mama
Burnished Chaos

33 thoughts on “Vomit

  1. omg . hahaha. sorry I shouldn’t laugh. One of ours at about 7 went daddy I feel sick and promptly projectile vomited from the back to the front windscreen leaving only a dad shaped puke free zone there! The entire interior had to be removed and replaced (oh the days of being able to clamber around a scrap yard)… the smell is impossible to get rid of. #globalblogging

  2. I always think about how lucky we are that we very rarely ever have an exploded nappy. I know I’ve risked a lot by saying that, but I’m willing to take that chance.

  3. Vomit in the car is the WORST! You never quite seem to get the smell out. Both my girls have thrown up numerous times (the last not much more than a week ago) in our cars and it is hell all around. Finally my oldest knows her body well enough to grab the “sick bags” we have stowed in the car for this purpose. She’s 9 now – it’s been a long go.
    ~Jess
    #FamilyFun
    Jessica – A Modern Mom’s Life recently posted…Last Minute Valentine’s Day Ideas for Busy FamiliesMy Profile

  4. Oh no, and the smell just makes you want to do the same. Absolutely don’t want the car thanks Lol! Good luck with the smell, have you tried bicarbonate of soda, and I hear a fresh apple in the car is good for that?

  5. Ahhh good old vomit. The best bit is when they wake in the night with a bed covered with vomit and you go in and while trying to console them you are throwing all the bed clothes in a black bag and replacing them with clean. Then you settle them into a nice clean bed and creep back to your own room and as you drift off thinking that maybe it had all been a dream…..it starts all over again! You have so much to come my friend. Only last week I was holding back the teenagers long hair while she vomited down the loo. Of course car vomit seems to smell the longest so keep on masking it and you’ll be fine..until next time.

    #mondaystumble

  6. I wish I could say this has never happened to me, but I can’t. With 3 kids it has happened more than once. Having a strong stomach is great here so you don’t spew all over the dash!

  7. So, I was drawn to this post because I have a condition called cyclic vomiting syndrome, which you can probably figure out is pretty horrible. My poor mother has cleaned up more vomit than anyone should have to clean up in 5 lifetimes! I have been known to spew clear across a room and cover the floor! #mondaystumble

  8. I really don’t do well with vomit. The only thing worse than having to clean up your kids vomit out of the car, is having to clean up your dog’s after they’ve just been on a dog poo buffet. Especially when you still had another 30 minutes of the car journey to go and there were two dogs who are now covered and jumping around
    Thank you for joining #FamilyFunLinky x

  9. Bleugh! I hate sick! I remember my young daughter throwing up all over the back of a taxi (that’s not supposed to happen until she’s at least 18, right?! Haha). I felt so glad that I could just applogise profusely and then neatly step away! Hahaha.

    Anyway congratulations because someone enjoyed this post so much, they added it to the BlogCrush linky! Feel free to collect your “I’ve been featured” blog badge 🙂 #blogcrush
    Lucy At Home recently posted…Dear Mummy-Blogger-To-Be, It’s Not What You Think…My Profile

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