Redefine Disgusting

Life is all well and good until chunks of vomit are cascading down your underpants.

What?!!!!???

A truer statement may never have passed my lips. Or echoed from my keyboard.

You're speaking metaphorically, right? Like a euphemism, right? Like letting the curses fly when it doesn't go your way? Something like, "Oops, I forgot to stamp that card...chunks of vomit cascading down my underpants!"?

Yeah. No. I mean, one minute I'm talking to Grace's teacher in the back of the gymnasium before the curtain rises (Did I mention Grace was a pirate? Tried out for the play and everything? Been memorizing her lines since August?). Next minute, Judsen's sounding all panicky, like he's the first to spy the white horse riding on the horizon cloud. Then I hear, "My tummy doesn't feel goooood." 

Oh crap. I know where this is going.

With teacher still talking and concern sharply peaking, I ask, "Do you feel like you're going to be s --"

And then, yes. Yes he was. Like a hose. Aimed right at my chest. Curled into it, if you really want to know the horrors. Then, as I was moving like I, too, had seen the apocalyptic horsemen, he did it again. And, just as I hailed Elijah to go get Daddy - quickly - he did it again. And again. And, just for good measure, one more time. All before we made it the bathroom.

Um. 

Ew.

Yes. Yes it was. After finally getting him to the toilet, up he chucked twice more. Outside the women's room, I could hear Grace's teacher telling Craig, "Just go in. Go in! It's all right." Of course, when Craig came 'round the corner, he was a most exceptional shade of green. I don't think he thought it was all right. Wife covered in vomit traipsing its way steadily south. No, not all right at all. But still he passed the near-useless (not his fault) brown school paper towels like a motorized arm on the "just to help you scrape off the chunks" conveyor belt of mercy. 

Yeah, that simile isn't helping the "ew" factor.

Yes. Yes I know. When the last retch had ceased, I wrapped the boy in my sodden jacket - yeah, I did type sodden - and told Craig to stay for Gracie while I headed home with the hurler (and I don't mean the throwing kind). By now, the spooge (um, didn't know how to spell it, so Googled it. Turns out, that's NOT what that word means. Triple ew.) vomit has oozed a path down the v-neck (how often do I wear a v-neck...come ON!), over the belly, and well into the underpants.

Wow. 

I'm just incredibly disgusted by this whole post.

Yes. Yes I am, too. Try motherhood. It'll redefine disgusting every time.

And, while you're basking in the merry land of pondering, here's another tittle worth excogitating:

Life is all well and good until chunks of vomit are cascading down your underpants.