The Fit

We had the stomach flu in our house last week. First Middle Boy, then me, then the 4-Year-Old Boy. It was a 48-hour, violent flu. There was pain, moaning, dramatic proclamations— "I'm going to die!" —and lots and lots of laundry.

It began with a call from the school informing me that Middle Boy had been vomiting. The 4-Year-Old Boy and I rushed to the school to rescue Middle Boy. I'm embarrassed to admit that I was a little irritated when I found out that he hadn't even made it to a trash can. He threw up sitting in his chair in Strings Class. He told me he missed his cello, and only hit the bow. I reminded him, lovingly, that he was TEN years old and next time he gets sick at school, he should GET UP and try to hit a receptacle.

Middle Boy was very ill. I was a compassionate mother and nurse, helping him get to the toilet, brushing his teeth for him, wiping his face, feeding him ice chips, and providing bowls and Ziploc bags for security in case he didn't make it to the bathroom.

It finally appeared his stomach was calming. Over the course of four hours, he drank ginger ale and ate a few soda crackers as he watched SpongeBob Squarepants on the couch. I was happy to see color in his cheeks and hear him laugh instead of moan. Oldest Boy and 4-Year-Old-Boy were in bed for the night.  Middle Boy said his stomach still hurt a little, but he was ready for bed. I tucked him in, showed him where the security vomit bowl and Ziploc bag were, and told him to come to our room or call us if he needed ANYTHING. His father and I were there to help him! Poor, poor child, I thought.

Five minutes later, as I was climbing into my own bed, Middle Boy appeared in my doorway.

"I threw up."

"I'm sorry, honey."

"In my bed."

"WHAT?"

It was horrible. Chris and I obviously had not communicated well about how much ginger ale or how many soda crackers we were each giving Middle Boy. There were at least two liters of stomach contents all over the bed, the carpet, the wall, the nooks and crannies of the bed frame, beadboard and baseboards...it might have even been on the ceiling fan.

"CHRIIIIIIS! I NEED HELP!"

Chris ran up the stairs.

"He puked again. EVERYWHERE. He needs a shower. He's already dripped to our room and back to his."

Middle Boy looked at me sheepishly, "Sorry, Mom. I thought I was done."

I know he didn't mean to. He was tired, probably very comfortable in his bed, and half asleep when he threw up. But there was something about the brightness of his eyes and the rosiness of his cheeks, that made me think he COULD have gotten up.

I started cleaning the mess and the more I cleaned, the angrier I became. I stomped and slammed as I moved wet linens from room to room and searched for the proper cleaning supplies. I had "sick" fluids running down my arms and on my forehead. I had been SO careful as I cleaned the vomit messes earlier in the day. My fate was sealed.

As I continued to clean, I yelled weird things at Chris and Middle Boy. I rarely use foul language in front of the kids but I said ass and shit and hell and damn and maybe even the Big Daddy of bad words. I barked at Chris about picking up Mary's dog shit. Because, you know, at 10:00 p.m. after your child has puked ALL OVER HIS ROOM, it's important that the dog shit is picked up in the backyard.

I've cleaned up vomit messes more than once. All three of the boys have thrown up in their beds. For many reasons that I clearly see in hindsight, this particular crime scene pushed me over the edge. I had a fit.

Middle Boy went back to bed in a restored room and made wide-eyed promises to hit the toilet or the vomit bowl next time. He was fine that night, although he threw up again the following night. I'm happy to report Middle Boy came into our room and announced that he needed to vomit. Chris did a standing broad jump from our bed, ensuring Middle Boy was escorted to our toilet and properly aimed. No fuss, no muss.

I apologized the next morning to the entire house for my fit. The only one who didn't seem phased was 4-Year-Old Boy, probably because he's an expert fit-thrower.

Please tell me you you've thrown a fit. As an adult. With an audience. While sober.

Comments

[sarah]

omg Chrisy! i have sooooooo been there and your "fit" throwing is MILD compared to the vocabulary that comes out of my mouth! i hate vomit, i hate cleaning it up....there is nothing pleasant about it. NOTHING! please know that you are NOT alone sister!!!

[Corbie]

Every. single. day. And I wish I were joking. I say the Big Daddy of words when Gatorade spills on the (mind you, tiled) kitchen floor...someone should come up with a word that will help me really drive the point home when vomit is involved.

[christy]

Um I'm pregnant. That's my excuse for my fits. Everything sends me over the edge these days. I can't even imagine how angry I'd have been in your shoes. Poor you - I wish I could come over and watch you drink some wine in the afternoon, you know, since I can't for like another year. WAH! Okay, enough about me. I think your reaction was totally normal. And ask my husband - I'm an EXPERT fit-thrower!! hehe.

[Cheri @ Blog This Mom!]

Oh, sweet Chris, you were overwhelmed and tired. We all throw fits, me included. You've never heard me distressed, have you? *Wink*

I threw a fit once when my oldest daughter told me her hand hurt after karate class. I saw no swelling or bruising. I made her go to bed. It hurt in the morning, and on the way to the doctor I was really annoyed and told her how she was making me miss school (I was in law school, so under a lot of pressure), etc. etc., in other words, I laid on the guilt as thick as possible.

Her hand was broken.

I'd not only made her go to sleep with a broken hand, but I gave her a hard time all the way to the doctor's office.

When I brought her back to school IN A CAST, feeling like the most despicable mother EVER, I ran into a friend who happened to be the president of the PTA, no less. I confessed my guilt to this mother whom I thought of as perfect. She told me that the year before her daughter had hurt her hand on a Friday and that she'd made her wait until Monday to go to the doctor, and it too had been broken. I felt a little better about that part, but, of course, I'd given my child the extra bonus of having a fit on the way to the doctor.

How's that? Feel better? Probably not, but still you're not the only one who's had a fit. As an adult. With an audience. While sober.

XO

[Chris]

Mary JUST threw up. I almost had another fit, but I managed to control myself. I was irritated, but not in a crazy fit like I was last week. I'm so glad it's Friday. Thanks, Sarah.

[Chris]

I have a hard time seeing you in a fit, but because I trust you completely, I must believe you. :-) Fits [meaning CRAZY weird stuff comes out of your mouth including unrelated rants] are different than anger and frustration that are deemed appropriate for the situation. Now I want to see one of your fits. XO

[Chris]

Like I mentioned to Corbie, did you simply give your daughter a "hard time", or did you say CRAZY stuff, even unrelated to the incident? I do feel better though. I mean... her hand was broken. Thank you, Cheri. XO

[Chris]

You have the perfect excuse. I don't know if my reaction was "normal", but I appreciate that you think so. I wish you could come over and watch me drink wine too... We'd talk to your belly. :-)

[Middle Aged Woman]

Oh yes, I have. And Husband was usually wise enough to escort the children out of the way. Although I am more likely to just cry.

[Deidre]

Ew! ew! EWWW! This is reason 498 that I am not ready (and may never be) ready to have kids...I would just be revolted by cleaning up vomit...And thus, I think you were totally justified in throwing a fit. because did I mention, ew?

I threw up in my bed once - I had been fine when I went to sleep and I woke up AS I was throwing up, I, too, felt old enough to you know, make it to the bathroom...So I was sick AND embarrassed. It wasn't pretty.

[Rachel Cotterill]

I was on the brink today! (And I don't even have kids...)

[Judy]

I've been there more than once -- have I ever told you about poor Andrew spilling a pitcher of pineapple juice all over the kitchen? Most recently I had a mini-fit in the middle of the night when Lydia woke up fussing. The first time I got up, patted her back, spoke a few soothing words and crawled back into bed. I was exhausted, having been up much of the night before with Andrew, who was sick. Five minutes later, she started alternately fussing and screaming -- sort of panicky sounds. My mother-of-the-year reaction? I yell down the hall, "BE QUIET! GO TO SLEEP!" (Rinse and repeat.) Fab went in to her room and the next thing I know it was morning, and Fab told me that a GIANT spider was next to her on the bed, probably what woke her to start with. So not only did I have an irrational mini-fit, but I got to log some major guilt. A bed full of barf is definitely grounds for some fit-throwing, don't worry yourself.

[Anastasia]

OMG, that made me laugh. Last year my four year old had a stomach flu and I ended up cleaning puke FOUR times throughout the night. We had no clean sheets or towels left by morning, it was insane. I totally feel your pain.

I haven't had a fit like that since I was potty training my four year old. One day I had to clean pee and poop just one too many times and just lost it and yelled really loud in a half angry half about to cry voice.

We've all done it!

[Mrs. D]

Oh Chris, I did this just the other night. My older son has been sleepwalking and/or thinks he's in the bathroom (but he's not) and there have been some wet nights. This is not regular bedwetting, this is more unpredictable. Sometimes it's in the hall, sometimes sitting on the side of his bed, sometimes in the bathroom but standing in front of the toilet (lid closed) completely asleep. Luckily, it's not an every night thing. Maybe once every 2 weeks. But it's frustrating to wake at 3am, hearing fluid hitting the hardwood floor outside your room. And then when I try to help him get clean clothes and clean up the mess, he's mad and uncooperative(still asleep, but eyes open, it's really weird he's like another person). So he was really uncooperative the other night and I was exhausted and I lost it. And I felt very bad later. Luckily, since he's like a zombie and not awake, he never remembered a word I said.

You are not alone. We moms need a fit every now and then, too.

[Mrs. D]

Oh and I am cracking up at the thought of you starting in on dog poop during this ordeal. Sorry, but I had to chuckle at that one ;-)

But I understand why you did, once the dam bursts it ALL comes out!

[Debbi]

So been here, done this ... too many times to count! It always seems to be hot dogs and/or mac and cheese. I can smell that odor as I'm typing this. YUCK! I had oral surgery today and have visited my bathroom a time or two today, so can't talk about this anymore. lol

As far as the cursing, isn't it funny how things change from Child #1 to Child #3??? I NEVER in a million years would have used a cuss word at my oldest son. Now that he's 18, however ....... yeah, not so much. And my husband's way of "calming" me down in those situations is always, "Oh, listen to the Sunday School teacher!" Doesn't work out that well for him. lol One of my most memorable "A-ha" moments - when Grace was probably about 18 mos old, she was walking around the house saying, "God dammit, Grace." I thought, OMG! She's going to school, they're going to ask her what her name is, and she's going to say that! Now, in my defense, keep in mind that this limber, agile 18-mo-old started walking at 9 mos, we found her on TOP of the refrigerator at 13 mos (where we kept the candy). To say she got into EVERYTHING is an understatement. My mom was the Queen of fit-throwing, so I learned from the absolute very best. Don't you just wish you could put that "Yes-I'll-do-whatever-you-want-Honey" look on your husband's and kids' faces without channeling the Exorcist??

[the mama bird diaries]

Oh yes. You are not alone. We've all been there.

[Lady Fi]

Oh Chrissy - I feel for and with you. My son has vomited everywhere - in nooks and crannies at 3 am - and no husband waking up to help. It's a nightmare!

I have indeed thrown more than one fit when sober in front of family - and have been very very sorry afterwards.

You are not alone!

[Chris]

Fatigue and sleep deprivation are the roots of ALL fits. And I like how you were soothing at first... ALWAYS the case. It's like I'll be "Mother of the Year", then turn on a dime into Psycho Mother.

[Chris]

Oh my gosh! That would be terrible to have a sleepwalking/sleep-peeing child. I used to sleepwalk as a kid, but I just roamed and babbled. Poor you!

[Chris]

I'm sorry about your surgery. Ouch! I can't imagine your mother throwing a fit. And the "Yes-I'll-do-whatever-you-want-Honey" look is SO easy to do. Why do they all resist? Loved the Grace story!

[michael.offworld]

Oh yes. Fits galore around here. They are hard to control and once I commit to the process of being angry, there's a certain physical pleasure to it. Adrenaline? Power? I like and hate being angry at the same time. It's like drinking in a way. The hangover (guilt) is a kicker.

Apparently, we have 90 seconds once the physiological part of anger has kicked in before all the hormones and whatnot leave the blood stream. After that, we do it to ourselves.

I haven't tried it yet, but I'm going to try two things:1. leave the situation when anger first arises2. not beat myself up for something we all do

Awesome post, Chris. It resonated deeply with me. I kind of feel sick now, I can almost smell it.

[Angie]

Hey Crisy, don't feel alone. I've been there more times than I can count, not proud of it but it happens. I chuckled and read it to one of our sons and asked "does that sound familiar?" He cracked a smile and politely said, I don't know. I think he just wanted me to make him breakfast. You too will chuckle at this down the road.

[Pam]

I certainly hope you really know that we've all been there... pissed off at having to clean up barf at 3 a.m.(and the kids think you're yelling at them). Sober. As an adult. With an audience. And fits??! I've told you the story about me coming unglued in the car on the way home from an extremely trying school day and Liz, in a meek voice, as she hugged the door, said, "it isn't me, is it...?" talk about guilt... ! BTW, there's nothing grosser than cleaning up barf... Do I have stories... which I won't entertain you with at the moment... yuck!

[San Diego Momma]

Definitely been there. Especially when vomit or poo are involved.

Especially when vomit or poo are involved in bed.

Or on the floor.

Or by the door.

Or on a coat.

Or with a goat.

Seriously. Been there. :)

xoxoxxo

[Ellie Belen]

I know this is weird, but thank you, thank you. While reading your post, you took me to so many places. First as a child, having that loving understanding and concern from my mom, such a comfort, like a "blankie." Then having her anger flair as I in astonishment got reprimanded for throwing up on the floor. She used a couple of choice words too, showing just how adamant she was about ever visiting "vomit-land" again. Doesn't she know how sick I am! After the third time, guess who cleaned it up? But believe you me, I got to the bathroom AND to the toilet, each and every time after that.

Then being on the other side of that as a Mom. I repeated the same thing you described, just like my mom. My son, Beloved also learned he'd better get to the bathroom or the bucket provided next time. Period.

Nostalgia comes in all forms.

[Connie]

I'm a fit thrower. Bobbi's dog throws up on my carpet at least once a week and I get mad. And I may have throw a little fit while I was holding a wash cloth to my child's bleeding forehead on Friday. I was pretty irritated that he hurt himself 1.5 hours before I had to leave for the airport. and then I felt like an ass when I left him at the ER with his dad.

I think we've all been there.

I hope you are feeling better!

[Kate Coveny Hood]

I think we've all thrown fits as adults. But I can't think of anything recent. My role in the family is to be the calm one who tries to make everything nice. But seriously - sometimes I think it would be theraputic to throw a fit without any fallout...

[Jessica]

I am pleading the fifth on this one

[V-Grrrl at Compost Studios]

Ranting and yelling and cursing while under the influence of copious amounts of vomit and endless loads of laundry is fully acceptable, according to all major religions. ; )

I bet there's a verse in the New Testament that says "And Baby Jesus did vomit and Mary said unclean things, kicked the donkey, and told Joseph she'd rather give birth in a stable AGAIN than deal with one more stomach virus."

[Danny Miller]

Oy. Haven't had that vomiting fun in a while. But my daughter had lice last week, one of the worse cases that has been seen here in a long time. Ick.

[Jannie Funster]

I try to keep my fits down to once a day, so explanations could go on and on.

One particularly good fit... husband last week, mud on shoes all the way from the front door to the household computer -- across carpet. I believe one line went "Get your damn ass in here and clean up this shit NOW or the remainder of your life will be nothing but hell."

[Nikki]

Oh geez, I can totally relate. I have a new appreciation for vomiters though after Karen & I both had a week-long stomach virus at the SAME time all while trying to take care of a 2 year old. We literally had to crawl into the living room, while dragging along some sort of receptacle, so we could turn Barney on for her. At that point, we both realized one of us should probably get married so we'd have a husband around to take the child to a hotel. Luckily, she never got it and we each lost 10lbs in the process. I do remember having a couple fits at a 2 year old asking for cereal when I couldn't even lift my head off the bathroom floor. Don't worry, your kids won't need therapy because of this.

[The Demigod]

Needless to say I'm hoping everyone in the house is now vomit-free and feeling much better, BB.

And if I don't throw at least one fit a day in front of a vendor (where I always play the client card, trumping everything else), I consider it incomplete.

*Hugs

[Gabi With An Eye]

Well (in a rather smug tone) mercifully, I turned out to be a sympathetic vomitter. Yup, that's right. If I so much as hear the precursory vomit sounds, much less see it or worse, smell it, I vomit instantly. Our daughter was 3 years old the first time she vomitted and that was when we discovered this, ahem, talent of mine. So my husband, instead of having to clean up one vomit, had to clean up two! That's all it took. From that vomit (day) forward, he was on vomit clean-up duty. Nyuck-Nyuck (said a la Three Stooges).