I don't know what it is about my children, but they like to announce when they're about to vomit. They either stand in the hallway, and yell it, or they stand at the foot of my bed whimpering, until I ask them what's the matter. "I'm going to throw up!" they manage to gag out. "WELL GET IN THE BATHROOM!" I bark. Why do they announce this? I might never know. It is 3:37 a.m., and I am blogging. Why? Because my son awakened me, by crying out at the foot of my bed, "I'm going to throw up!" Why the warning? So I can rub their back? Get them water? I think my husband knew I couldn't do it, so he ordered ds into the bathroom, and went to get him a pillow and blanket to sleep by the toilet all night.
I laid in my bed, and felt guilt for being wide awake, and doing absolutely nothing to help my son, while my husband, who usually gags at the sound of vomit, trudged around helping him. So I made the mistake of getting up. I had to go to the bathroom anyway, and thought I could stop in the kitchen and get him a glass of water. BIG mistake. As soon as I hit my bedroom door, which is right next to the bathroom, I smelled the most vile stench. It smelled like rotten eggs. I immediately covered my mouth, and ran downstairs to the bathroom. Ahhhh, fresh air. I knew I had to go back up, not only to go back to bed, but to show my son that I did care that he was sick. As soon as I hit the middle stair, I could smell it. Sulphurous vomit. *Gag* "Oh no! Now I'm going to throw up!" I ran to the kitchen, and began dry heaving violently. I don't know what it is about this pregnancy, but I don't just feel nauseous. No, I wretch violently. Even if nothing is coming up. And it lasts for about 10 minutes. I guess the baby doesn't like bad smells.
Anyhoo, I managed to get control of myself, filled up a glass of water, and grabbed the lysol, and covered my mouth with my sleeve. I sprayed halfway down the hallway when my husband realized what I was doing. "Enough with the lysol!" he said. "I can't make it down the hallway if I don't spray it!" I whined. He told me to just come in the bedroom and close the door. I still had to deliver the water, so I scurried to the bathroom door, mouth and nose still covered, and stretched my arm around the corner to give him the water. "I threw up", he said weakly. Uh, yeah, I came to that conclusion already.
So, now I am awake, and for some reason, blogging while my husband watches a re-run of the x-files. I don't ever remember galloping into my mom's bedroom when I felt like throwing up. Maybe I did, and I just blocked it out. I need to do a better job training my children to just head straight to the bathroom, instead of making an announcement first. At least until the baby comes. I mean, when I feel sick at the grocery store, I don't run and get the manager. No, I head straight to the bathroom, and do my business. No fanfare, no alerts. Maybe this comes with age. *sigh* I guess I'll just have to wait, and hope that when they are older, they won't have to wake me up. They'll just vomit, and go back to bed.
