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That Thing I Swore I’d Never Do

June 21, 2013

(Based on events from last week).

I’m staring at a pile of baby vomit. It taunts me, just like the last pile did. Come on, lady, come and get me. Just try to scrub me out of this carpet. Think you can soak these high chair straps long enough to get my smell out? Think again. I own you. Vomit is so sinister. It’s heckling me, I can feel it.

I start scraping and scrubbing. Note the intentional verb choice – I am literally scraping at my rug with carpet cleaner. I am scraping the straps of G’s high chair with Lysol wipes. I am running my arms back and forth until they start throbbing, and then my sick boy starts screaming from the spot where he’s playing in the living room. I guess my work with the throw-up will have to wait.

I find G, who is pitifully sitting amidst a pile of toys with snot dripping down his nose and his thumb in his mouth. He is sobbing and looking up at me with the most helpless, sick-boy eyes. I pick him up and he snuggles into my chest. Tears soak my shirt. Nose boogies go everywhere. His thumb goes back in his mouth. I can tell he would like to stay in this position for the rest of the day.

But I can still smell the vomit in the carpet. If I don’t get to it now, my house will smell like this forever. Forever. So I become a bad parents and put cleaning above the needs of my child and, after holding him for a few minutes, I put him back down with his toys on the floor. He screams. Okay, super. New plan: Pick him back up. Rub back, hold face. Soothe, calm. I put him back down. SCREAM. New plan #2: Attempt to distract. Wave new toys in his face, clang his balls together, show him books. SCREAM. He looks at me with a quivering lip and giant crocodile tears pooling on the floor. I am running on about 4 hours of sleep and start to cry too. Where is my live-in nanny when I need her? Where is my maid? Did my night nurse decide to take a vacation this week?

I decide it is time for the unthinkable. It is time to utilize my most ultimate form of parental back-up. It is the thing I swore I’d never do, never use, or allow myself to reach for at any point of desperation. But I don’t really care. I think I reached a point of no return. With throw-up wafting through the air and a baby that demands my arms for an entire 24-hour period, I think I’ve found my desperate.

I flick on the DVD player.

I turn the TV on.

Baby Einstein comes to life in my living room.

I wait with bated breath for my son’s reaction.



P1000490He’s Baby Einstein mesmerized.

I am a mother without honor.

Today, I lose parental points for both allowing my son to watch TV, and also for the crazy get-up he’s wearing in these pictures (yes, I know, but did I mention I had to change his outfit in the middle of the night?). However, I think I gained points for no longer having the smell of vomit in my carpet and on my son’s high chair.

Can we consider it a day I came out even on the parental scoreboard?

3 Comments leave one →
  1. June 21, 2013 11:16 am

    Bull. You don’t lose any points at all. You might gain some serious honesty and realism points. I also happen to like his outfit, having dressed myself in get ups like that before getting married (Plaid and stripes being my biggest violation).

    Hang in there.

  2. June 21, 2013 11:17 am

    haha, babies need stimulation & you need sanity, it’s okay 🙂 you are a great mom! i love your posts & baby einstein is at least educational! i let madison watch it also… and sophia the first because i myself also want to be a princess. so i am allowing her that same fantasy.

  3. hownottokillyourparents permalink
    June 21, 2013 2:07 pm

    You know, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do. My parents left me with Sesame Street from time to time. Do I have a bit of a muppet obsession? Maybe… but otherwise, I turned out a-o-k. 🙂

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