He coughs. And twitches a little.
He coughs again. And whines softly.
Oh, god. I know what this is. I KNOW WHAT THIS IS! He's going to fucking PUKE! This is what he does when he pukes, he coughs and whines like that!
Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he just has something stuck in his throat. Oh, please let me be wrong. I have to go to work in 6 hours, I can't be up all night with a barfy boy.
"Child 2, quick! Get to the bathroom!!"
He gets up and starts heading toward the bathroom. And he starts yelling.
"FUCK! SHIT!! FUCK!!! SHIT!!!"
Oh. Oh, good god.
He makes it to the bathroom and I'm now standing in the middle of the pitch black bedroom. From there I can hear the telltale sounds of stomach contents being emptied. Into the sink. Well, at least it's not the floor. Or my bed.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" he howls from the bathroom. "SHIT! FUCK! SHIT!" He's a yeller, this one. Can't really blame him. Throwing up sucks. But... really with the cursing? I say nothing, I figure it makes him feel better. After all, they did a Mythbusters about that; about how screaming obscenities makes painful things less painful, it's probably helping.
I see the shadow of hubs coming into the room so I grab my pillows and head to Child 2's bed. Hubs is on vacation now, he can deal with this tonight. Happy Father's Day, though! YAY!
I settle into Child 2's bed (which happens to be the most comfortable bed in the house because it has this awesome Tempur-Pedic mattress topper) and in comes Child 1, who squishes in next to me.
It's going to be a long night, isn't it?
The rest of the night drags on with me drifting in and out of consciousness, and every hour or so the house is filled with the sound of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! FUCK! SHIT! SHIT! FUCK!!!"
Does he really have to scream like that every time? I mean... I know it sucks to be sick like this, but come ON, man! The windows are open! THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD CAN HEAR YOU! And did I mention that my mother-in-law is in town and sleeping downstairs?
At some point the screaming and the cursing stopped, which I think was around the same time that my alarm went off and I had to get up for work.
Hubs and I were talking about it when I got home from work (and after I had taken a nice long nap). We agreed that there's nothing quite like listening to your 6 year old child curse and barf like a drunken sailor. "It made me realize I had failed as a parent," he said.
I guess we'll have to work on that.