Wednesday, 4 March 2009


WARNING: Subject matter not suitable for the squeamish. Seriously, you have been warned.

Well, it's been an interesting week so far. The weekend was remarkably laid back, with lots of hanging out and reading and not-doing-very-much. (I will get out into the garden to continue the tidy up. Sometime. Scout's honour.) On Monday I picked the boys up from school as normal. I also acquired an additional boy, as First Born's friend Cookie Monster came with us to let his mum go off and deal with an urgent errand. First Born was delighted by this but was also a bit quieter than normal, claiming he didn't feel too great.

He confirmed that he was indeed not well when we got out of the car at home and he proceeded to vomit violently, spectacularly and profusely all over the driveway. Huh. Well, I suppose it could be worse, driveways are easier to clean than say, beds or hall carpets after all. Ah but wait, he managed to throw up into the side pocket of his school bag at the same time. That takes talent. Or something.

Anyway, I had to throw lots of buckets of water down the driveway to try to get rid of FB's undigested lunch and then ..........clear out and scrub the side pocket of his bag. Whilst breathing through my mouth and thinking hard about something else. Thank goodness for Febreze, is all I can say.

FB continued to be sick during the night, usually with no warning (we suspect his dyspraxia-type issues mean his body gives him very little warning of such things) so clearly he was not going to school on Tuesday. I stayed home with him and we watched episodes of Red Dwarf had some quality mum/son time. I was again grateful for my new job which lets me take the day off and make up the time later.

So that was the first half of our week - typical of the unpredictable fun of parenting. In fact, I would hazard a guess that if you have managed to read this post without any nausea or queasiness yourself, then you probably have children too! If I am right in that, can you also tell me at what age you can be sure you will no longer have to scrape someone else's stomach contents off the carpet?


  1. Send them away from home for University. No kidding!

  2. Poor FB! I used to be squeamish about these things but then I got my dog, and dogs can puke up some rancid stuff... not to mention what comes out the other end, and all the nice things they roll themselves in. Probably good training for what's ahead of me (although I don't expect the baby to roll in sheep poo but you never know).

  3. After 7 months of step-daddery, my boys SO FAR haven't vomited anything, yet. And if they do, there's always Hullaballoo to apply advanced mummying skills.

    But Younger Son did arrive from 5 days with their father looking like Phantom of the Opera, with impetigo covering half his face and an eye infection. So trip to Sick Kids followed by 312 sayings of "don't touch your face" or variations there of.

    I was lined up for Red Dwarf time, but to both our disgust, mummy pronounced him fit for school again.

  4. Quality kid barfing always makes a good story. I am assuming there is no gravel on your driveway, otherwise it would have been a bugger to clean. Sideways vomiting into a pocket takes some mastering. I think he has been practising. I am guessing that school bag will always smell of vom, no matter how many gallons of febreze you boil it in.

    And yes, as Mc Bobo says, the boys aren't sicky. When OS is ill, he automatically assumes it is a rare tropical disease, even though the furthest he's been in the last year is Aviemore. Poor thing, it must be such a let down to have something normal.

  5. Oh poor boy! And poor you - that's foul, having to clean boak out of a schoolbag!

    I hate to say it, but so far I've been REALLY lucky with D. He's six in a fortnight, and apart from the usual regular up-chuck of milk when he was a baby, he's only barfed a couple of times. Once was in his bed and trails over his bedroom floor. That wasn't nice. The other time was in his cot, just before he moved into a big bed. I smelt something funny in the room (he was still in my room at the time) when I came in, and when I switched the side light on, I saw his face beaming up at me absolutely COVERED in spew. He wasn't remotely fazed one bit!

    I reckon you should get a new school bag.

  6. I don't think you can ever truly rule out ever having to clean up offspring puke. I went to stay over at my Mums for a couple of days, 2 years after I had moved out, and took not well. You can guess the results.

  7. MaryG: That's the plan!
    Lynsey: True, but equally dogs rarely boak in your hair. Or ears. Or down your neck.
    McBobo: Ah shame. You didn't get to test the restorative powers of Red Dwarf!
    Hullaballoo: I'm sure the bag is clean (it's made of that scrubbable waterproof nylon-y stuff) but in my head it will always smell of regurgitated salami.
    Croila: FB used to throw up in bed and then go back to sleep. You only found out in the morning when he had rolled around in it and it had dried...
    Jaggy: I take it "took not well" = "drank myself stupid"?

  8. DD aged 4 came into bed in the middle of the night and just cuddled up...lovely....howsoever at some point she went to the bottom of the bed puked and then cuddled up again and i didn't notice till I stretched my legs out in the morning and got a footfull of blurgh!

    Also the definition of true friendship is washing my friends pukey sheets cos her DS is barfing for the Borders and her washing machine is busted!

  9. Thank you so much, Loth. I've just had my lunch..

  10. Nothing like a good barf story to accompany your Sunday morning breakfast, I always say. And speaking of breakfast, yesterday at the 3rd ever Ottawa Bloggers Breakfast YOU were a hot topic of conversation. Seems a few Ottawa bloggers have found you and were singing your praises over eggs and beer. We were trying to figure out a way to convince you to drop by Ottawa during your next visit to Canada.

  11. I tried to sing your praises but was quickly asked not to sing anything, ever.

    There's nothing like being cuddled up on the couch with a child who starts barfing, and you have to resort to catching it in your cupped hands so as to avoid having the couch splattered. Yeah, good times.