When It Rains, It's Gross

WARNING: The following account contains graphic descriptions of gross things involving bodily fluids. If such things are overly disturbing to you, do not read this account! Also, don't have kids.

WARNING NUMBER TWO: It's also pretty long, but worth the read!

You are probably familiar with the saying, "When it rains, it pours." This adage refers to the fact that when something unfortunate occurs, it is usually accompanied by many unfortunate occurrences. If we were to use that phrase to describe last night and this morning, we would have to amend it to say, "When it rains, it pours vomit, urine, and blood." That would be a very good description of our last 24 hours.

We were on our way home from a great day spent at Grandma and Grandpa's house in Iowa. Jay was in the middle of recounting to Sherrie the epic awesomeness that is The Empire Strikes Back, when suddenly we heard the sounds of Partially Digested Dinner Strikes Back coming from the back seat. Our four-year old, Rock Star, was in the middle of what doctors call "sporadic fits of gurgling geyser-like up-chuck coughs." Acting with the alacrity only seen in the finely honed skills of a mother attempting to stop the flow of vomit, Sherrie found a puke bag and thrust it into Rock Star's hands. He, of course, simply held it off to the side as he continued to spew forth bits of hot dog and Doritos all over himself. Rock Star's technicolor yawn happened within sight of our neighborhood. Of course.

We got home and immediately went into full-blown "clean-up-this-nastiness" mode, which involved stripping a screaming, puke-covered boy down to his skivvies right there in the front yard. It also involved a mountain of Clorox disinfectant wipes. It was late, and we were trying to get kids into bed and disinfect every surface in sight, all while we had tired, cranky, and (at least one) vomit-covered kids. Fun.

We thought that was the end of our adventures, but when we got up to get everyone ready for church, we found Rock Star sitting in the living room with dried puke on his shirt. This was not the shirt he had been wearing home last night (see the above reference to stripping him in the yard). This was the nice, new, clean shirt he went to bed in. Jay asked, "Did you throw up again?", to which Rock Star innocently replied, "No. Oh, I did at night. You have to throw away my pillow."

Rush down to the boys room to survey the damage. What do we behold? The expected chunks of semi-identifiable food and "ick" all over the top bunk (including the pillow). The unexpected surprise, however, was our two-year old, Buddy Boy, sleeping sweetly on the bottom bunk, looking for all the world like a beautiful cherub--floating in his own pee. Nice.

You know that sensation when your mind simply refuses to accept what your eyes behold? Yeah, it was like that. One bed covered in sick-up, one bed (and associated boy) covered in urine, and the clock quickly ticking before we had to leave for church. Why did we even bother bathing our kids last night?

We stripped the bedding off of both beds and rushed to the laundry room to put last night's puke clothes into the dryer to make room in the washer for this morning's puke and pee clothes. And what to our wondering eyes did appear? Wet clothes in the washer that still had vomit on them. Great, now the washing machine doesn't work. (Incidentally, we now have a lovely pile of grossness on the floor of our laundry room; guess we'll have to figure that out!)

Rush, rush, rush and we finally have everybody (somewhat) clean and ready to go to church. As we load them into the car, we noticed the strangest puddle of what looked like blood under the back of the car. Putting that puzzle aside for another time (what in the world could leak red from the back of the car?) we load the kids in and tear out of the driveway. We're running late, but we will only be a few minutes late for church. Not bad considering our adventures.

As we are heading down the road, Sherrie suddenly asks, "Did you get the steaks out of the back of the car last night?" Gross. Mystery solved. Back home to grab more Clorox wipes. So guess what leaks red out the back of a car. Three large rounds steaks that have had all night to thaw out, that's what!

On the way to church (now considerably later), Sherrie suddenly bursts out laughing uncontrollably. Wiping away her tears, she says, "This is going to make a great blog post!"

It all started with this.