You. Have. No. Idea. A Cautionary Tale for New/Future Parents

My sweet toddler has been sick for four days now. And if you’re squeamish, you may not want to read any further. But if you’re a new parent, or considering parenthood, I strongly urge you to hold your lunch and read on. After all, I believe expectation management is the key to happiness. If you know what’s coming, you’ll be better able to handle the “joys” of parenthood. Here is what you can expect when your little one gets a super nasty stomach bug, especially if they’re able to run through the house (while vomiting), yet not able to reason quite yet (around 18 months old or so).

• Your child may seem cranky/irritated leading up to getting sick, but they can’t tell you they’re getting ready to throw up/blow out their diaper. They just do it. Wherever they’re standing, sitting, laying, etc. You just better hope you’re at home. And not hauling down I-35 through Waco, TX at 2 a.m. (That’s what happened with our first born.)
• You’d better keep Lysol, laundry soap, hand sanitizer, and lots of towels on hand. They’ll be spraying (your floors, your couch, your bed) and you’d better follow closely behind with your own kind of spray. Also, your washer/dryer will be constantly running, so you’d better have appropriate supplies ready.
• A toddler is unable to vomit into a bowl or bucket, so this is why you’ll need towels handy. If you’re lucky, you can learn to read that “I’m gonna puke” look of panic in their eyes, and attempt to keep a towel at their mouth to collect the well…you know. And meanwhile, they’ll be thrashing about, so you’ll be lucky to catch 50% in that towel. It’s best to just spread out old sheets and hope for the best.
• Be prepared for something the worst, though. There may come a time when they appear to be throwing up into the towel, when at the last second, they’ll rear back their heads and project the yucky stuff right onto your face. In this instance, it helps to be a former partier, used to holding a Solo cup in front of your “had a few too many friend” when she tells you she’s gonna hurl. You know darn well she’ll overshoot the cup, but you just had to try.
• And just when you thought you have a handle on the spew-fest, the stuff will start coming out the other end, if it hasn’t already. And let me tell you, it will be the worst smell that’s ever assaulted your nose. You thought Great Uncle Earl’s post-Thanksgiving dinner gas was bad? Ha! That was a pleasant smell compared to this. And it’s not fun for your toddler, either. It hurts. So they’ll thrash around while you’re trying to change them. Fun times.
• Here’s where it get’s difficult. What? You thought the hard part was over? Now, they have a high fever. And the medicine they need just keeps coming back up. And you’re tired, but you can’t dare sleep. You watch. You hover. You put your hand on their chest to feel it rising. While they rest, you worry. You would do anything to take away their pain, and the icky stuff their body is producing no longer bothers you.
• You’ll be glad when the morning comes, but you may have a new set of problems. Your child, after having both ends turned on like a faucet, may decide to stop drinking. Anything. No juice, no pop, no water, no jell-o, no popsicles. They ask for milk. You cave. They need fluids. And then they’ll approach you innocently, reach out their little arms, and plead “Momma, hold me.” You’ll scoop them up, a little too enthusiastically, and right when their mouth reaches your head level, the milk will come out…all over your hair.
• Then, after a doctor’s visit, and a trip to the hospital, they start drinking clear fluids again. Hooray! Only, now, the diarrhea is back, worse than ever. It comes every 5-10 minutes, it runs out of diapers, it drips across floors. This is when you think you might break. The medicine hasn’t started to work yet. You keep giving them fluids, knowing they’ll come right back out, but you have no choice.
• And then, after awhile, you see them smile again. You may hear a laugh. You can see a light at the end of this dark, smelly tunnel. You’ve bonded. More than you ever thought possible. You were spit on, thrown up on, pooped on, and yet you just kept loving them, just kept doing what you needed to do. And all you can hope for is that someday, they would be willing to do the same for  you.