The Yucks of Parenthood

Funny how parenthood doesn't come with vows when you first discover you're expecting. Unlike marriage which warns you that you're signing up for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, there's no contract of sorts when you first see the positive sign on the pee stick. Although thinking about it now, parenthood pretty much means for better or for worse, for poorer and lots of sicknesses. Nope, when you're imagining the pitter patter of little feet, you're not possibly thinking about cleaning up leaking diapers, wiping up snotty noses, swabbing up vomit in the hard to reach crevices of a car seat. Nah, no one tells an expectant parent about "those" joys of parenthood.
It's nearly midnight, and I'm still awake, knowing full well that Quinn will soon be reaching for a middle of the night feed. Why am I not sleeping? Because I am waiting to load up the washing machine with another load of vomit covered bed sheets.
Just as I was drifting off, despite Daddy's loud snores, I was jolted awake by the sound of a crying child. Not Quinn. Not Aisling. I stumbled into the kids' room and discovered two wailing children and the unpleasant, raunchy odour of puke met me with full force. Turning on the lights, I could see Devlin sitting up, crying and Ceilidh struggling to sit up, also crying. I wasn't sure which one had gotten sick. Since Ceilidh was closer, I grabbed her and steered her towards the bathroom. She was walking with arms held out, crying that "It's gross, it's gross!" I rushed back to my bedroom to find my glasses, and only then did I see the full picture. Ceilidh was covered from head to toe with vomit. Chunky stuff too. Mostly in her hair.
Devlin was sitting in the bed, surrounded by the vomit - on the blankets, pillows, bed sheets, the wall! I still didn't know who did the throwing up, until Devlin hysterically screamed "I told you my stomach was hurting!"
Daddy took on the task of washing down the grossed out Ceilidh first, and then a still-sobbing Devlin. I ended up with the chore of stripping the bunk bed, moving the bed from the wall and mopping up that mess. Thank god for Lysol wipes!
In between looking for dry, clean pyjamas and clean bedsheets, we did an inventory of what Devlin had eaten. Any peanut tainted products? Nope. Fever? Not really. Maybe a bug he picked up? Possible.
We settled Ceilidh down to sleep, made sure Quinn and Aisling were still asleep and brought Devlin down to sit up on the couch. Started the laundry. Then did the only thing we could as parents. Laughed about the scene. Poor Ceilidh, looking absolutely disgusted by the puke, and crying pitifully "It's sooo gross!"
Which then stirred up memories of the time my brother threw up all over my sister in the car. Back in the day before car seats and seatbelts were mandatory, our family took a trip to the beach. Dad, Shunaha and I were in the front of the green rocket, with its vinyl seats and no air conditioning. Bill and my Grandma were in the back. Bill was standing up, hanging onto the front seats excited about the trip. As we pulled into the parking lot, he puked all over the front, which meant he puked all over Shunaha's head. I don't remember any of it getting onto the seats or Dad or myself. Just Shunaha. And I remember her pitiful cries of "Yuck. It's sooo gross!" Of course, this was back in the day before showers at the beach. Just the lake water to clean her up in.
Aaahh...the joys of parenthood.