Sick Kids No Laughing Matter

Home Sweet Home. Not.

I’ve been holed up here for three days straight with a sick kid. I’m trying to see the bright side, but I’ve only come up with one so far. She is not vomiting.

I hate vomit.  I hate fake vomit too. I hate kid vomit the most.  A big reason I hate kid vomit is because kids never have a clue they are about to ralph all over you. There is no early warning system, no tell-tale signs, just a fleeting bug-eyed look of astonishment before your shoes are covered in muck. What I really need is a Hazmat suit.

The problem with kids is when they are sick, they want to attach to you like leeches. The child who can barely stop for a quick hug is now glued to your side with a 103 degree fever. So I have learned to think in terms of collateral damage.

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Mom’s Adventure : Shopping for Mattress

There should be a 12-Step program for the commitment-phobic. It’s just so hard to clutch to my iPod Touch when I know the next generation will be out—and out-of-stock–by Christmas. I’ll be stuck lusting in my heart for bells and whistles I can never have. Better to wait.

That’s why it took me ten years to buy a mattress. How could I ever know if we were truly compatible from a five-minute showroom speed date? Yeah, the old one was shot. But we fit. We knew each other’s failings. We kept each other’s secrets. We both knew it could be worse. Finally, I sent the pitiful old queen packing and started flirting with some studly kings. It was a new experience!

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