'Cause you haven't heard a good vomit story lately

Why is it that children don't throw-up until you've turned out all the lights and have snuggled down in bed?  They wait until you're reflexes are lax and then BAM! (or rather gag) they puke up noodles all over the floor (and wall and curtain and bed shams).  The boy, Jasper, has complained of an aching stomach all day, this, however, did not stop him from irritating his sisters but what ailment stops a brother from being a brother? But I digress, after hearing him complain all day and asking him all sorts of embarrassing questions (11 year old boys love bathroom humor but become very prudish when you start questioning size, color, and consistency), offering meds, and checking for fever, I finally just decided he needed a good night's sleep and all would be well in the morning.  That being said, the best place to be when you're sick is in your parents' room, so I made him a comfortable pallet by my bed and to sleep he went. Well not really.  The moment I switched off the bedside light and flipped my pillow over to get comfortable on the "cool" side, I hear a little voice say "I think I'm gonna throw up now." I immediately try to haul him up and to the bathroom but he's not one to move quickly on the best of days much less when he's trying to hold down dinner so before I could get the light back on he spewed spaghetti all over the bedroom floor.  And that's when the mommy shield kicked in and I became impervious to the sounds, smell and sight of vomit.  I immediately ran to the bathroom to retrieve towels and a damp wash cloth for him as he remained standing at the foot of my bed continuing to bring up every bit of food from the day.  The angle at which he stood made me have to straddle the puddle of eew on the floor while reaching for him, trying to keep him from passing out (does anyone else have kids who do that? almost pass out when they vomit? He's always been that way - gets in a trance and I have to hold him up). Again I digress, Over the sound of retching, a disgruntled sigh could be heard from where the man who has to wake at 3:30am is trying to sleep.  I impressed myself by not throwing something at his head.  Once Jasper finished bringing up his dinner, I lifted him over the puddle on the floor, got him to the bathroom and started a shower for him.  Then it was time to clean up the floor.  So I grabbed my trusty bottle of Lysol and the mop and went to work.  Luckily the mommy shield of imperviousness (<--not a word but I like it)  was still intact so the clean up wasn't too horrendous.  At least it wasn't until I looked down and noticed the wet, slimy. partially digested, noodle sitting on my foot.  And that's when the dry heaving started. And over the sound of me gagging you could, again, hear the disgruntled sigh of the man who has to wake at 3:30am and is trying to sleep.  But for me there was also a sleepily asked "Are you ok?"  Dry heave. "Yes" Dry heave "I'm fine" Dry heave. "just cleaning" Dry Heave.  Finally I had to shake off the noodle, walk out of the room, take a deep cleansing breath, and the Mommy shield of imperviousness was again in place.  I returned and successfully cleared away the entire mess (well except the stuff on the curtains. . . ) then made a new pallet for the now freshly showered boy.  As I climbed into my bed and switched off the lights I heard him chuckle (because 11 year old boys don't giggle) and say "I feel SO much better now."  And with a smile I realized that at the end of the day, no matter how nasty the clean up,  all a mom wants to know is that their kid is happy and feeling fine.

You may think that the reason I am up at almost midnight, when in just three and a half hours I will be up making breakfast for the man who has to wake at 3:30am, is due to the vomit incident.  Nope, shortly after the sickness visited our house, a nightmare snuck into the girls' room and now I'm sitting up protecting them from the evils of their dreams.