The worst thing in the world is being a parent of a sick child. For those that get queezy easily you may want to skip this part.
I was downstairs enjoying the highlights on Sports Center when I had the joy of being jolted out of my seat. What was it you ask? Aiden screaming the scream of pure terror. I sprint upstairs because he has now progressed to crying while screaming. I run in and flip on the light to see he had vomited at least twice. I think it was more of a scary thing for him because he doesn’t really know what it is or what causes it. Shortly after I found him in his room I got him to the bathroom to “spit in the toilet” a few more times and plopped him in the tub. He did fine in the tub for 15 minutes or how ever long it took me to strip his bed and throw it in the wash…hey Kim, really happy we bought the red washer/dryer with the “Sanitizing” cycle. For the last hour he has been downstairs with me watching tv (at just after midnight mind you) because his “tummy hurts” and he feels like he “needs to spit in the toilet”. I don’t mind this part even with me being a sympathy puker usually. I’m Daddy, its my job to try to comfort him and make him feel better when he asks me to…this is what sucks.
Just before he got out of the tub Aiden said something to me that broke my heart. He told me he wanted to go somewhere so we could get something to make his tummy feel better. I hated having to tell him there wasn’t anything we could get him to make his tummy feel better and that he should feel better in a while. He wanted me to make him feel better right then, and there was nothing I could do. My kids are my life, and I would gladly trade places with him and be the sick one while he felt fine if it were an option. He is so tired, but is scared to go sleep in his room in case he gets sick again…we will be sleeping on the couch tonight.
