Monday, March 1, 2010

I Love You, Therefore I Hold The Bowl

This weekend was the weekend I got to hold the bowl. Yes, the puke bowl. Not only that, but I got to hold back the hair, and rub the back, get the water, and say "it's OK, you're going to be OK." Because that's what us moms do.

Even us moms that HATE puke. And I mean, hate. With a capital "H." Like, would avoid puking or being in the vicinity of puke at all costs and is almost verging on PHOBIC about puke. But, when you become a mother, there is this clause at the bottom of the paperwork that you have to sign in the delivery room that says "You, the undersigned, realize fully and of sound body and mind that there is a shitload of poop, urine and vomit in your future and you will have it on your person, will have to dispose of it, clean it up and watch it coming out of various orifices on your child/ren and must not, under any circumstances, run screaming out of the room, cry or break down emotionally when confronted with said bodily fluids." And even though you are still all drugged up and exhausted from pushing a baby out of your vagina, you sign it and you are trapped. Trapped into the job of the "Bowl Holder."

But, the thing that you don't realize, is that when it is your kid, it's different. Yes, puke is still disgusting. It smells bad, it looks gross and you definitely don't want it on you or near you. But when it does get on you, you don't gag and think you might actually drop dead from absolute disgust. You are more concerned about the fact that YOUR BABY just THREW UP. And OH MY GOD, what is wrong with them??? And instead of running from the room when your child starts gagging and you can see the vomit starting to come out of their mouth, you run TO them and push the bowl under their mouth, pull their hair back (because God forbid they get puke in their beautiful hair) and rub their backs. Because that's your baby. And you feel bad. You feel really bad.

It still sucks. Don't get me wrong. My stomach does flips and my heart races and I sweat like a fat guy running a 5K. But most of the distress I am feeling is just because I am worried about my child. I can't stand to see my children sick or hurt, and I would take it from them in a heartbeat. And after about the fifth time, sometimes I have to hold back the tears because I feel like I just can't take one more puke session. But I get through it. I always do. Because I love my kids.

Puke and all.