Well, well, well…Here we are. Another Friday. If you recall, last Friday was not such a fun walk-in-the-park kind of day for yours truly. So, alas, we complete another scary Friday today that is making me think that I might need to start referring to the day as “Fabu-Freaking Fridays”. Which, of course, scares me just a little bit considering next Friday is CHRISTMAS and all…
The day started with me slumbering deeply in my bed and hearing the phone ring around 7:30 a.m. When the phone rings that early in the morning at this house, it’s usually not the best of news and it wasn’t. Our beloved Miss Betty, local grandmother to our children and sanity-saver to mommy babysitter
I managed to gain coverage for the crew and I arrived at the luncheon to a pale-faced hubby who had most definitely seen better days even though he had just cemented a crown and completed a root canal (which of course sounds like a true definition of hell to me on a healthy day let alone a flu day). He left shortly thereafter while I stayed and noshed on a filet mignon (Seriously. I did. For lunch.) and enjoyed the fact that I could just sit down and eat a meal without getting up every 10 seconds (“My mother hadn’t had a hot meal for herself in 15 years.” Name the movie!)
I headed home to find both boys awake and ready to take on the afternoon but Sawyer was clingy. The kind of clingy that moms know as “I’m sick and about to vomit and I need to be as close to you as possible so I can vomit ON you.” I kept a watchful eye and sure enough, he let it fly shortly thereafter. And without getting into graphic detail, he let it REALLY fly.
The vomit gods were in my corner today because Solomon was snacking on some Goldfish in his seat when this scene began to transpire and he watched in complete attention as if attending a good show with front-row seats. He was strapped down and couldn’t even begin to break-free which, as anyone with an out of control active toddler knows, is a good thing when vomit starts to fly. Keeping toddler tied to one spot will keep said vomit from being tracked all over house. Enough on that.
Susannah, on the other hand, was not such an angel. Having just returned from preschool, she was on a mission to watch the Grinch, by golly. Within five minutes of being home, our living room was covered in vomit, Sawyer was covered in vomit, and I was covered in vomit. With Solomon strapped in, I kicked it into turbo to get it all cleaned up while I could take advantage of the fact that he was still happily crunching away on his Goldfish. However, the only thing Susannah could say, in the midst of all of this chaos, was “Mommy, when can I watch the Grinch? I want to watch the Grinch! I NEVER get to watch the Grinch!!” and in typical five year old style, was completely oblivious that there was anything going on that could impede my ability to meet her needs yesterday. It was not a pretty sight.
Let’s have a little lesson now on what NOT to vacuum up in your Dyson vacuum cleaner…I thought it might be a wise idea to suck up some of the mess before busting out the deep cleaner but um, yeah. Don’t do this. Let’s just say that after getting someone from the Dyson Helpline on the phone, who was precious, it became clear to me that I had screwed up and it just wasn’t going to be easy. After sharing what had happened with the Dyson angel, she simply said “Eww. I haven’t had that happen yet.”
I always love to be the case that breaks one in. After consulting with her manager, she shared that we would need to package the darn thing up at the local UPS store and SHIP it to Dyson to simply get the freakin’ thing cleaned out. They would then ship it back to us when they were finished. It was just Not. Going. To. Be. Easy. Meanwhile, Susannah was shouting in the background that she wanted to watch the Grinch. For a second time and RIGHT NOW! Admittedly, I was quickly turning into the Grinch.
Suffice it to say, we all survived. Everyone is sleeping. No one is vomitting. Yet. Solomon was my little superhero. He was the only one who just sat and took in the action. He deserved to wear the superhero jammies and though he was melting down because he wanted a popsicle, he was Mr. Chill through the whole scene. Which makes me wonder what on earth he must be thinking in his 17 month old brain. “Dude, I got screwed. This is a nutball family”? Possibly. Luckily, he doesn’t know life to be any other way than crazy and chaotic and truthfully, even during VomitFest 2009, I’ll take it, too.