I think I'm going to...

Be-Sick.Barf.Up-Chuck.Vomit.Spew.Call-out-for-Hughey.Hurl.Ralph.Puke.Toss-my-Cookies.Lose-my-Lunch.Greet-my-guts.Technicolour-Yawn.Blow-chunks. etc

We walked into church a few minutes late today. We made it through the opening song, and prayer, which was followed by a beautiful baby girl being blessed. I looked down at Roland, who had crawled quietly into my lap, and he was making the strangest face. His mouth kept opening and closing. I wasn't sure why, when all of the sudden he let loose, and he... well... see the line above... 


I caught the first bit in my hand, because I didn't know what else to do. Dave was quick to grab a baby wipe to catch any run off (he had cat-like reflexes in that moment- I swear). But then it happened again. And again. Meanwhile this beautiful child is in her father's arms, while he softly gives her a name and a blessing, and her poor mother is RIGHT in front of Roly, who is Hurling his guts out. Dave caught the rest in a blanket. My fight or flight instinct had kicked in by then, and I was ready to boot it out of that chapel, barfy baby in arms. BUT I chose to wear heals this morning, so instead of sprinting out of there, like my instinct told me to, I was forced to walk slowly, and calmly to the door. I did this, while trying to keep Roly facing forward, so as not to smear vomit all over my brand new dress, and with Dave following close behind, up-chuck filled blanket, and diaper bag in hand.


This may seem like a strange post, but this experience really got me reminiscing.

• I threw up when I was pregnant. That was gross, but I learned how to deal. 
• I threw up once when I was probably 19, and got the flu really bad for a couple of days. 

Other than that, I haven't really thrown up in my adult life, or even as a teenager. But when I was a kid- Oh when I was a kid! I would barf All the Time! 


I don't know what was wrong with me. Maybe I had allergies that I didn't acknowledge. Maybe I was starved for attention, and it was one way I knew all eyes would be on me. The truth is I don't actually remember the experience of getting sick, just some of the situations, and the results. 

• One time it was Glosset raisins, while driving in the van with my mom. I've never been able to enjoy chocolate covered raisins again. 
• Another time it was at the mall. In the food court. My mom sent my sister to the bathroom for some paper towel, then we all moved to a different table. By the time we were settled at the new table, and before we'd found any one to really clean the old one someone had already sat down at it.
• One time I didn't have any extra clothes, so my mom bought me a new sweatshirt. It was pink, with purple flowers. The kind that is so fluffy and soft on the inside it almost hurts. We called it my "throw-up sweater." Not only because of the circumstance in which it was purchased, but because of the resulting cookies that were tossed every time I wore it after that. 
• I remember once, while laying in bed, waking up and seeing my mom. I was sick, and she was checking in on me. I couldn't stop it. She got it right in the face.
• Then there was the bell & the barf bucket. When we were sick my sweet mama would leave a bucket and a bell by our bedside. The bell to call her if we needed anything. The bucket... well... you know. 

What is it that is so significant to me about all my up-chuck memories? I guess the truth is that they are memories of my mom. And the strange thing is that I remember them all fondly. 

Who would catch vomit in her bare hands, wipe it off of food court tables, and come at the ring of a bell to clean it up? 

Who? 

And why? 

Moms! Because moms remember. We know the embarrassment, and the horrible sting in the nose. We know the relief that you feel when you throw-up, along with the panic of how to deal with it when it's done. We know that a back rub will help keep the tears away when its all over. We know that making sure you are ok is the first priority, that getting things cleaned up is 2nd... a quick 2nd, and that no drink tastes as sweet as some luke-warm ginger ale, after calling out to Hughey.

Ok, so maybe this isn't the best forum, or topic to pay tribute to my mother over. But regardless, Thanks mom!