Everyday is an Adventure. Embrace it


******Warning******This post may induce vomiting

Some people are born with an iron stomach. They can eat anything, smell anything, touch anything and seemingly nothing grosses them out. Others have a very touchy queasy tummy and just can’t handle disgusting smells, tastes, or consistencies. These people have what we call a weak stomach. Around here, we have a combination of both kinds 😉

A few nights ago, my husband and I were watching television in the bedroom. The kids were off doing their own things (playing video games, doing homework, and watching television in the living room).  In the bedroom we were watching Click. It’s such a touching comedic movie about how much family and time with loved ones means more than time spent at work making a living.  Here’s how the last 2 minutes played out…

Just as Adam Sandler falls to the ground outside the hospital trying to get his son’s attention we hear a tiny knock on the door. We ignored it, both thinking once the kids don’t hear us answer, they’ll wait till the movie has finished. Afterall, this is the touching part. I’m crying and my husband is tearing up too.

Adam Sandler’s son runs to him and the rest of the family is surrounding him on the pavement, covering him with umbrellas to keep the rain off him. We hear another tiny knock on the door. ” Surely, they can wait till the movie ends”, we both think. Several more tiny timid knocks on the door in a row…My husband jumps up, cracks the door and says very quickly, “we’re watching a movie. It’s almost finished. We’ll be out in a minute, Okay?” He shuts the door and sits back down. We finish the movie and Nick says, “Well, let’s go see what the boys wanted. XXX had a sad bewildered look on his face.”

My husband beats me to it. He’s standing in the hallway talking to XXX (my oldest son). “What’s going on?”  My oldest answers, “I got sick.” My husband cautiously walks to the other end of the hallway as if he’s scouting out new territory and peeps around the corner. “C H R I S S Y!!!” He calls to me. About this time I’m in the Hallway on the other end. There’s about 15ft between he and I and I hesitate…”What?”

“OH my GOSH, It’s horrible. Come here. Oh my…what happened again?” he replies.

“Great, I guess I’d better go”, I think to myself. I made my way to the end of the hallway and I see XXX standing there with the most pitiful look on his face. He’s pale, sad, and dismayed. I also see a mop bucket and smell the problem. It’s nasty…it’s vomit…with nasty chunks in it and it’s EVERYWHERE. I could tell he attempted to make it to the restroom, but only made it to the door about 7ft shy of his target (the toilet). It dawned on me that we put off answering the door to finish that awesome movie about how important family is and in the process neglected some family right here. How ironic!

“Why are you using a mop to clean up chunks son?” I ask.  Suddenly I hear the other two boys as they peeked out the door of their bedrooms. From the distance I hear, “Hey, yeah…we tried to help him. We gave him the mop and the bucket.”

“What?”, I exclaim, “you gave him the bucket and mop, then abandoned him? This has been here for at least 10 minutes. This is not fresh. You can’t mop up something chunky!!”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want to get sick,” another son replies as he speaks through his hand covering his mouth. The bedroom door shuts and they disappear. I hear gagging from their room.

My husband just stands there, mesmerized by the puke. Mouth gaping open, trying to figure out how one person could vomit so much in only one event. He even begins to scratch his head and mumble out loud about it. “It looks like there’s a dead chopped up body in the floor. What did you eat XXX? How can one person do this much? Oh yuck, it’s on the walls all the way in here too. It stinks. Gross. What did you say you ate?” He went on and on…

Rubbing XXX’s shoulder, I say “XXX, if you feel better now, please go to your room and lay down. I’ll finish cleaning this up.” XXX goes to his room saying, “I’m sorry” over and over again. “Don’t be sorry honey”, I answered his mumbles.

I began gathering the supplies I would need to clean up the nasty mess and my husband is still mumbling trying to figure out what XXX ate. At this point I wanted to burst into laughter, but I was still upset with the other 2 boys that knew very well the mop and bucket would just make a bigger mess. Just as I had almost gathered everything I would need and had removed the bucket and mop, I hear my husband begin to gag.

In my head I’m thinking, “Who wants Chowder?”

He ran to the kitchen sink. He gagged over and over again, but didn’t vomit (Thank God! If he had, I would be cleaning the kitchen sink too.) I began to remove the chunks and dispose of them.

About 1/2 way through the chunk removal, my husband says, “Oh yuck, it’s in the cat’s bowls. Just throw them away.” I just kept on cleaning. “It’s on the walls Chrissy!” he says. I kept on cleaning. “Honey, LOOK! It’s all the way over here too! Just throw that rug away.”  I kept cleaning.

In my head, I’m thinking “Who cares what he ate? Thanks for showing me it’s in other rooms though. Why are you freaking out?” He gagged a few more times, but I must give him props, he stayed right with me until I was completely finished cleaning the hard wood, the tiles, the base boards, the walls, the toilet, the sink, the hallway, and parts of the living room. He gagged, all three of the boys gagged, but we all survived and no one else got sick!

All this I found comedic because of the irony of the movie vs what my son was trying to tell us, the younger boys hiding in their rooms and abandoning their older brother, XXX gagging as he was trying to clean up his own mess, my husband’s odd chatter and wanting to throw everything away, and the cat’s reaction was funny too. He paced the floor for over an hour meowing loudly because his precious food bowl and water dish were contaminated!  Between these boy, my husband, and this event – it’s a real wonder that I didn’t go ape crazy!  I guess God gives mother’s an iron stomach to deal with their families daily. I just never appreciated before how iron my stomach is.

Comments on: "Only a Mother Could Handle This" (64)

  1. Thank you Chrissy, much love!

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  2. Oh my this is definitely one of those stories for the family memory book! Well done you, cleaning it up! I have to say that in this household God gave the father the iron stomach lol. I would be the one staring in disbelief and gagging haha!

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    • I think it’s an acquired skill…or maybe it’s just love to keeps us from puking. One things for sure, it’s not easy – it’s queasy 😉

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  3. […] Only a Mother Could Handle This. […]

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