Saturday Part III

Saturday was supposed to be my day to do one really fun activity with the kids for the weekend.  We were going to expend our energy, the 3 year old was supposed to take a good nap, and we were all going to attend the youth group activity, something we all enjoy doing together.

But the best laid plans are something, something. I can't remember the expression.

By the time I arrived back from the ER, it was late afternoon, my 13 year old was suffering from the pain of a broken ankle, my 3 year old was taking a late nap after falling asleep on the living room floor, and I was already tired enough for bed.

Thankfully, my parents came to my aid. They shuttled my nephews home and provided a way for my 13 year old to attend the youth group meeting that she loves so much. She grit her teeth and pushed through the pain to enjoy seeing her friends.

After she left, I decided to tidy the place a little bit.  Eight kids had done everything from sleeping to eating to playing in our disheveled home.  Kids hate putting their things away, so I figured my 7 year old was trying to get out of work when she began crying about her tummy hurting.

Being the tenderhearted mother that I am, I told her to get back to work and pointed to the trash can telling her that she could relieve herself there if something came of that "tummy ache."

During dinner, she didn't want to eat.  After dinner she couldn't be made to feel jealous at our drinking hot chocolate because she still complained about her stomach.  She was a crumpled mess on the couch while we watched TV. Then when she should've been brushing her teeth, I heard her scream for me from the bathroom upstairs.

Up there, I found she had made it to the bathroom.  She'd made it to the toilet. But her vomit didn't make it inside the toilet.  Instead, a big, wide puddle of pink, chunky vomit lay at the base of the toilet on the floor.

I could smell the stomach acids as I ascended the stairs. The overpowering smell in the bathroom immediately brought tears to my eyes as my body began gagging uncontrollably. My gagging was so intense that my throat hurt and I feared I was going to add to that puddle.

Over and over I ran out of the bathroom for air.  I was crying.  How would I clean this up if I couldn't control myself? My oldest normally cleaned puke for me but she wasn't home. Besides, she had a broken ankle.... I couldn't ask her anyway, right?

Online I looked up what common household items absorb vomit. I found a website that promised to tell me what absorbed bodily fluids.  Ewww, that grossed me out.  However, that site was very useful. I   lugged my partially used 13lb bag of Costco baking soda upstairs. I figured that the remaining 10lb would be enough for the job.

Armed with a can of Lysol and a bandanna around my face, I sprayed the bathroom as I entered. I dumped the baking soda and then left while the magic began. I wanted all of that vomit to be absorbed and deodorized.  When I came back, I again sprayed the Lysol, donned plastic gloves, and scooped up the nasty baking soda into the trash. Since I clean with the antiseptic vinegar, bubbles fizzed after I sprayed down the area.  This was the small pleasure in my disgusting task.

At the end of the night, my babies were tucked in for the night and I fell asleep effortlessly.

Just enough baking soda to absorb the pool of vomit.