Warning: If You Have A Weak Stomach Don't Read This Blog

     When I first had children I thought I had a pretty good idea what it was going to be like.  Even though I was young, I knew I would be up all night, I knew their would be dirty diapers, and fighting, and spills and little owies and big owies that would need stitches, and broke bones.  What I wasn't prepared for and what I still find the most intolerable of the intolerables is the vomit.  We have called it many things at our house, puke, barf, blowing-chunks, throw-up, up-chucking.  Call it whatever, I call it gross, and I have cleaned it up by the bucket full.  I have changed sheets in the middle of the night so many times I couldn't count them all if I tried.  I have dug regurgitated chunks of food out of shag carpeting, and washed it out of long hair. I have even tried to keep the dogs from eating it while I did it.
     We have had disasters the likes of which some people never see.  One of my daughters ran to the toilet when she was about to be sick and she made it, but not in time to get the lid up.  It all hit the lid and splattered on every wall and the ceiling. The shower curtain was history.  The floor was a swimming pool.  Then I have a daughter that pukes like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.  She stands straight up and projectile vomits every where.  If you've ever had a projectile vomiter, you know what I'm talking about.   
     I hate being sick myself.  I fight it with all my might and I usually succeed.  Like Jerry Seinfeld I have a streak going.  Their is one thing I don't understand though.  Why is it that no matter how old my kids get when they are puking they always want their mom. That's me.  I have to stand in the bathroom and live it with them. Why?  Even my adult kids want me when they have the flu. They want me to come and be with them. And here I thought I had raised independent people.
     Instead of giving clothes and diapers at baby showers, we should be giving the mothers-to-be a barf-bowl for their precious little one, cause heaven knows, sooner or later she's going to need it.
     If you're wondering what inspired today's blog, I have a little boy sleeping on the floor right next to my bed with a big bowl and a case of the flu.