Sunday, August 19, 2007

Regurgitation, revisited

Larry and I managed to sneak away after dinner last night to take a walk at the Town Center and listen to the live music they have there in the summers. We enjoyed our date for almost 10 full minutes before Theo called to inform us that Rachel needed to throw up; we sped home so we wouldn't miss any of the excitement. I don't know what's with that kid. I just know that there is yet another dinner that I won't ever be able to eat again. There's quite a list now - the delicious sausage chowder a friend made us last summer, the great salisbury steak recipe we tried out this past winter, the spaghetti with homemade tomato sauce that we enjoyed last night - just a few of the many dishes that have been ruined for me by the sight of their regurgitated versions. Thanks, kids!

It's difficult to sleep well when the odds are good that your kid is going to throw up again during the night. At half past midnight both Larry and I heard a child cry out for us and leaped out of bed like firemen hearing an alarm bell. Wrong kid, though - psych! - just Susie coming in to share our bed for the rest of the night. Rachel waited another hour - you know, just long enough for Larry and I to get back into a comfortable slumber - to wake us up. Obviously feeling quite chipper, she wanted her comforter back (we had confiscated anything we didn't want to wash the vomit off of) and her stuffed bunny and a few other things. We staggered back to bed, relieved that we weren't cleaning up more vomit, and knew no more until daybreak. This pattern of interrupted sleep (16 years of it, dammit) is getting to me. I believe the sleep deprivation is eating away at my brain cells.

Which may explain why I can no longer figure out how to operate a simple appliance such as my new dishwasher. Reading the manual is too overwhelming, so I just push random buttons until it lights up and starts making those gurgling sounds. But I love my dishwasher. And it only costs us 77 dollars a year to operate! I figured that out all by myself, thank you. You see, the tag said it only cost 22 dollars to operate; but that refers to normal use (defined as 4 loads a week). 4 loads a week! If that's all I had to do, I wouldn't need an automatic dishwasher. So I managed to extrapolate to 14 loads a week. It took me a while. Probably used up my last few remaining brain cells to do it, too.


  1. Hi there, I just saw your blog on the Humor Blogs random 10 list and thought I'd stop by. So, how many kids do you have? 16 years of interrupted sleep is quite a lot. I have 3 kids, and we are well past the stage of diapers; they've been sleeping through the night for some time now, but I am not. I guess I got so used to waking up when they were younger that it's gotten to be a habit. At least now I wake up and there's no vomit, ear infection, or nightmares to keep me up so I turn around and go back to sleep. :)

  2. There are 6, and we look to be at the end of the line. But from what you tell me, I've been conditioned and will never enjoy 6 solid hours again.

  3. I can't sleep through the night either. My youngest is still a baby, though, so she does still occasionally require me to get up, and the middle 2 are still pretty young (4 and 6), so very occasionally have to get up for them. My oldest doesn't get up at all anymore, but pretty soon I'll be losing sleep waiting up for her. I'm always so damn tired!

  4. Our theory is that the kids arrange ahead of time to take turns disturbing our much-needed slumber: "I need some sleep tonight, so you wake them up, okay?" They're out to get us.

    1. My husband's theory is the kids plan the messes, accidents and not so accidents that happen all the time. Like they say I am going to do such and such. I need a distraction. Make it big. Bodily fluids would be a nice touch. I'll get you back the next time you need Mom and Dad occupied elsewhere. He thinks they do it on purpose to drive him crazy. I say it is working.

  5. I can't stand the smell of Febreze now because we used it so often to cover the smell after the kids got sick. Now, the two are almost synonymous to me. My brother ruined my favorite dinner when we were kids when he decided to try his first beers with the boys. No more shrimp and rice - I have never forgiven him.

  6. Thought you'd find it funny to know I was pulled from reading this to tend to my screaming-with-a-sore-throat two-year-old.

    No sleep? I hear ya. Pee alone? Only in the middle of the night on the way back to bed.

  7. You should let him know that screaming really doesn't help a sore throat. Not that he/she will listen.

    And I do get tired of all the company in the bathroom. Particularly when I'm trying to change a tampon.