I Have Been Christened Into Motherhood Today

This morning my son decided it was time to baptize me into motherhood. He got sick all over his bedroom carpet and me. Actually he got sick three times. A more experienced mother probably would have reacted quicker, but they came so fast and I was just stunned. He had never become sick before and I felt lucky. Guess my luck finally ran out. He made it to almost 22 months. Is that a record? Do we win a prize?

I guess my prize was the hug he gave me afterwards. I believe he was surprised, too. When he saw me and my shocked face he just burst into tears. Poor little guy. I did my best to console him and tell him it was alright. He was hit with a lot of shrapnel and I was only winged a few places, but I couldn’t deny his hug as he definitely needed consoling. So I went from only being winged to being mortally wounded with it – it was now in my hair from his hug around my neck. Oh well.

I was then faced with a terrible dilemma. Who changes their clothes first? If I changed him first, how was I going to do that without transferring it back to him as I dressed him? If I changed first, I knew he would follow me from room to room depositing it everywhere. I quickly decided to strip us both down to our skivvies and then clean and dress him first, then me. Since I know I needed to do the clean up in Aisle 3 first before showering, I would sacrifice another outfit to do so. We were all out of Bio Suits, so I relinquished to the fact that my sweats would have to be the ones to sacrifice themselves to the task.

After carefully piling the turned inside out clothes on top of one another I began the long, tedious task of cleaning up the toxic spill. All the while I was being watched by the manager. He seemed quite interested in the task and was eager to “help”. Though I appreciate his supervision and attempts to improve my technique at cleaning, I felt I could handle the job better alone and encouraged him to watch the cartoons. Thank you “Super Why” & “Sid the Science Kid”!

Later after talking with my husband, we discovered that we both gave him a double dose of milk this morning with breakfast and to top it off, the milk might have been a little too old. Oops. Big mistake. Mix that with him getting upset with me over clipping his nails, which he hates, and you have a perfect recipe for an incident that is definitely appetite reducing.

Though it wasn’t the start of the day that I had planned, it is just another episode of motherhood that I’m sure I’ll look back and laugh at. How long do you have to wait till you can laugh at episodes like these?