Tales from the Barf Side

Emetophobia. That is the technical term for what I have. Fear of vomit, barf, technicolor yawn, bort, etc.

People pay good money to get cured of such things. I am lucky enough to have my own systematic desensitization program occurring on what has become, seemingly, a daily basis in my house. The program's name is Jessa and she is a 23 pound barfing machine.

Fans (or perhaps I should say, The Fan) of this blog may recall a previous post where she got home and held it together just in time to barf all over me. Well, this week, she has surpassed that one. She has tagged me twice in the same week! Now to give the girl credit, she really seems to want to make it to the toilet. I would say that about 75% of her barf content makes it to the toilet. Which is very good for a 2 year old.

The highlight of tonight came at approximately 8:07 pm, when I was holding the sickly Jessa, while talking to the pediatrician on the phone. In the middle of the conversation, Jessa starts to barf, tagging me and the kitchen floor in the process. I rush to get her to the toilet where she finishes the rest of the job. Eliana, being 4 and not being as interested in following instructions when she is getting tired, ignores the instructions of Dorann and heads down the stairs to find her lovey. As she starts to walk through the barf, I break from the conversation with the doctor to yell at her to get back upstairs. She runs up the stairs crying. Poor Jessa is sobbing in front of the toilet. My pediatrician, I am sure is deciding to report me to county authorities, but still finishes the conversation to provide expert advice for caring for the poor girl the rest of the evening.

Fifteen minutes after the incident, all of the kids were asleep. Which just goes to show you how resilient they can be, even when their parents are far from perfect.