This entry contains references to barf. Vomit. Puke. If you are squemish regarding such talk, then just throw up, I don't care.
To Jake, the phrase "Getting ready for school" means laying around, watching T.V., eating some breakfast and being continually berated by your parents to get dressed already. This morning Jake had eaten a pretty good amount of his breakfast and had already put his shirt on when he just barfed all over the place. It was kind of weird, he didn't feel badly before hand so there was no advance warning. He just puked on the little table that is in the kid's playroom. The best thing about it was that I didn't even see it. I was upstairs getting Annabel and Bobby ready for school. Claudine came upstairs in a rush for... cleaning products. Not medicine or TLC for her son but cleaning products to eliminate the puke and associated puke smells. I'm making that sound harsher than it was because Jake didn't really feel that badly even after he vomited. But that poor shirt had to go. Imagine, you're a shirt in the drawer - just waiting for your turn in the clothes rotation. Your color matches the pants today so you're getting the call. You get put on ready to face whatever and whereever your wearer takes you today. You're not on for 10 minutes and BRRAAAKKK. You've got puke on you. Sure, you get rinsed off but it's back into the hamper for you. You have to wait until next wash day, hoping you don't fade or worse, shrink. Then it's back into that dark drawer, biding your time until the next day you get the call. What, you don't imagine the secret lives of your clothes? I'm the only one...? Hmmm.
Anyway. For obvious reasons, Jake doesn't go to school. A child staying home sick from school used to be a big upheaval in our household. But combine the fact that I work at home with the concept of a six year old who loves nothing better than a day spent horizontal on the couch watching T.V. and you've got smooth sailing. I kept checking on him now and then and he rested on the couch most of the day eating crackers and watching Cartoon Network. Damn, I would have killed for an entire network of cartoons on a sick day. Back in MY day (Insert crotchety old man voice here), a sick day meant time spent on the couch watching bad game shows and dopey soap operas.
Claudine had late office hours thoday so around 5:00 Jake and I got to daycare to pick up the other two kids. Things are going pretty well. Jake feels better, he ate some dinner and kept it down. I get Annie to bed with no problem. Jake and Bobby are fooling around in the family room while I'm cleaning up. I finally come downstairs and Bobby says, "I have a tummy-ache." To which my stellar reply is "Yeah, but you're not going to throw up, are you?" Bobby shakes his head and says "No" and then proceeds to emty the contents of his stomach all over the family room floor. Those contents being Rugrats shaped macaroni and cheese and apple juice. Much like Jake, he didn't really feel badly after the vomitous event. He was more concerned about the puke on his shirt. I changed him into his jammies and he was happy for the rest of the night. I don't know what the deal was with these two. Just to make sure, I checked my calendar to make sure that today wasn't National Puke and Vomit Day and I had missed it somehow. But it wasn't. It never falls on a Monday.