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Inspirational Reads

A Midwinter's Night Tale

January 27, 2010

Fire up the coffee grinders, Ma, 'cause we're gonna have us a long day.

It all started last night. Partially because I'm too stupid to go to bed at a decent hour, and partially because I was trying really hard to muster the inspiration to finish another chapter in my current manuscript.

Down the hall, the Little Boy was coughing. And coughing some more. He's just getting over a cold, so we didn't think too much of it. But when he coughed and it sounded like product was behind it, then we panicked. Coupled with the crying, we knew we were in for some trouble.

As I went running into his bedroom, urging him to find a toilet into which he should deposit expectorate, I was punched in the face by an odor that came from the very bowels son...but it smelled more like Satan himself had been eating kimchi and guacamole before going out on an all-night bender of vodka, everclear and souls. And then he pooped. Satan, not my son.

Well, I dunno. My son could have pooped. After he was done puking, that is. I wouldn't know because I went into action, wherein I started washing his puke-soiled bedclothes and pajamas. Using a plastic bag and a spatula, my wife mucked up the splatter and then scrubbed up the stain.

Let us pause here to remember one Han Solo, who, though he may have been made of plastic, suffered immensely during the Revolution of My Son's Stomach. He's in a better place now...which would be my kitchen sink, where I tossed him AND the spatula on my way past while running puke-sodden fabric articles to the washing machine.

As this was perhaps the foulest smelling thing that I had experienced since my last kimchi-vodka-souls bender, I decided to run the puke-filled bag out to the garbage can where some unknowing sap kind-hearted custodian would cart it away to the town dump in the wee hours of the morning. Hopefully, for his sake, it would have frozen by then.

However, as I was trotting, in my all fatherly glory, to the trash can at the end of the driveway, the herd of deer that live near my house decided to stampede run through my yard. You might remember my Seven Awesome Ways to Die, in which I am terrified of being attacked by a deer caught in mid-coitus. You can imagine that this noise, coupled with the large, bounding creatures in my vicinity, caused my heart to shiver and leap from my chest, abandoning me so that it could run back to the house. Deer: one; me: zero.

Finally, we settled back down, I went back to avoiding hammering away at my manuscript, and finally called it a night around 12:30. I tucked myself into bed and laid there, drifting off to sleep. I was ripped from my restfulness just as sleep was beginning to settle itself onto me by the sound of my wife's my guts churning. Quieting myself over the very normal sound of her my body, I began to drift off again, when I was ripped once more from the clutches of Lord Morpheus by the sound of the shower expunging a few drops of water that had finally slipped down to the faucet. Again, calming myself, I was beginning to slip into the dream world when I heard the boy berfing once more.

Another cycle of getting him to the bathroom, changing his pajamas, washing his covers. Finally, once everything had been settled down and he wasn't erupting forth into fountains of vomit, I settled my brain for another night's worth of nap. Except, now, I had a hard time sleeping because I kept hearing the dryer (you know, the new one), tossing the clothes and such around, and every so often something with a zipper would smack against the side of the drum. *sigh* I finally managed to find some fitful rest. I had maybe slept fifteen minutes when he was up again.

I'm often glad I have a penis. I love you, little guy. I mean, uh, I love you, long, thick, girthy guy! Yeah, that's more like it. I was very glad when the boy was calling for "Mommy" to come and help him. Of course, my wife had to ruin it by asking me if I would go get him some water to help wash the puke taste from his mouth.

Know your role, woman!

That just bought me two months of forced abstinence.

He puked at least two more times, but aside from the first two, he got to the bathroom and made his deposit in the bowl. And who says you get prepared for college only at school? Not my children! Puke in the toilet, or the sink, or in your almost girlfriend's trash basket! Not on yourself or in your own bed!!! All valuable lessons for maximizing your secondary-educational experience!

So finally, with a sum total of four hours sleep (maybe), I'm here. I'm upright. I'm thinking about being productive. As in, "Hey, wouldn't that be nice? To be productive? Right after this short catnap...Zzzzzzzz..."

However, if someone has a cot or a couch or a warm, pillowy bosom I may rest my head upon for fifteen, twenty minutes (or more, depending on how pillowy that bosom is...), let me know. I'll be right over.

Just, please forgive me if I smell a little bit like puke.


Apocalypse Cow said...

This is why I could never be a parent. I would have put the kid in the tub, said "Stay there", locked the bathroom door, and gone back to sleep.

the iNDefatigable mjenks said...

@ Apocalypse Cow: There was one time when my daughter shit herself so badly that I helped her out of her outfit and her pull-ups and sat her on the toilet. Then, in a moment of brilliance, I ran her a bath and threw her in.

Unfortunately, I hadn't counted on the "streak" being left on the floor of the bath tub, and that I would be the one who had to clean it.

Elliott said...

I will be stealing 'Cough with product behind it', should I ever have occasion to discuss my berfing experiences. It's brilliant.

And I'm a puker, so there may be ample opportunity.

Travis said...


I have a warm pillowy bosom.

I charge by the hour.

Soda and Candy said...

"kimchi-vodka-souls bender" heehee!

Also, yay sesquipedalianism!

Tammy Green said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
LiLu said...

I'm pretty sure that first picture is me.

kate said...

I really don't know that I've got it in me to be a dog projectile shat on the wall one time and I was about three seconds away from dumping him at the pound and selling the house.

Nej said...

Of the many reasons we're not parents, this one is on the list.

Our new puppy was sleeping in bed with me one night, and I hear that noise. You know the one. If she were a cat, I'd say she was coughing up a hairball. But no, she's a dog...and she was preparing to puke...on the bed...right beside me. I picked her up, hung her over the edge of the bed. She puked down onto the clothes I'd worn that day. Then I put her back on the bed and went to sleep. All without opening my eyes.

You can't just hang your kid off the bed, so they can puke on a pile of clothes, and then go back to bed.

Well....maybe you can.

June said...

Hopefully tonight the house is peaceful.
Sweet dreams there big daddy!

Anonymous said...

I made up a puke advisory button. It's available on my blog. Free, of course.

Just a thought.
To warn those of us with weak stomachs.
It's an ugly orange and shows a pumpkin puking. Take a look. Let me know.

Amber Tidd Murphy said...

Get. me. birth. control. pills. now.

Gag me with a spoon -- or, no, don't. You've had enough regurgitation to last awhile.

Ohh, and the seven ways to die post? Yeah, residual PTSD symptoms from the time when I hit a deer on 64E between St. Louis and Louisville. Thanks for that... :)... and get you some sleep!

Miss Yvonne said...

I always made my husband clean up when my kid puked all over. My maternal instinct would hide somewhere behind my gag reflex.

adrienzgirl said...

I would totally offer up my pillows but the smell of puke repulses me. Sorry Dude!

Jay Ferris said...

This is exactly why I had floor drains installed in every room of my house.

Zan said...

You will get your revenge when he has to care for you and clean up your shit and puke. Bwahahahahahahahahaha....

Junket said...

If I throw up when my kid does... does that make me a bad parent?