The person that designed my toilets must have been a very privileged individual, and therefore never had to personally clean a toilet. There are way too many unnecessary nooks and crevices in these stupid toilets! It’s bad enough dealing with these fancy schmancy curvy toilets on a daily cleaning basis, but when your seven year old unloads an entire digestive tract worth of vomit on top of one, the cleaning of it takes hours.
I blame Jesse.
She was puking on the tile floor just fine before he hollered for her to aim for the toilet. “Nooooooo!” I cried in slow motion, envisioning the mess a down-pouring of vomit would make on and around the toilet. But it was too late. Ever the obedient child, she turned toward the toilet just as another spasm gripped her stomach. The chunky liquid spewed forth from her mouth, arching dramatically as she was still in motion. It splashed over walls, counters and finally, alllll over that damn toilet. Very little vomit actually made it into the toilet.
She stood there in shock, hands and arms covered in slime, reminiscent of fancy three quarter-length gloves. A few drops fell from her hair and pattered wetly to the floor, the only sound in the quiet after the storm. It looked like something you might find in the deleted scenes section of a Ghost Busters DVD, had Ghost Busters been made in a post VHS era.
“Don’t touch anything.” I said calmly. “Take off your clothes, and follow me, but don’t touch anything!”
I washed her hair and braided it, and got her all cleaned up, then I went downstairs and found the dog in the bathroom EATING THE VOMIT. I almost blew my own chunks at that point. Instead I shooed the dog away and began the very grueling task of cleaning up an ocean of nastiness. After the bathroom had been properly exorcized, I took a Silkwood shower, then finally, I came and got my very patiently waiting baby. It had taken me so long to clean everything up that she was actually hungry – possibly for the first time in her life. I almost laughed at the confused look on her face. It was as if she were saying, “What is this uncomfortable, empty feeling I’m experiencing in my belly?”
Now all my little ducklings are nestled snug in their beds, and I have a million and four things to do to get ready for our trip up north to visit my parents. It’s a shame, really. This was going to be a post about the fun adventure we went on with the kids this afternoon. I drew them a “map” with chalk arrows on the sidewalk, all the way to Jamba Juice. Maybe I’ll get around to that post tomorrow. As for tonight, I will stay busy cleaning and packing and trying to rid myself of the phantom stink of vomit that is haunting my nostrils.
Oh, and in case you were wondering, Jamba Juice does indeed use real, fresh fruit in their smoothies. So fresh it is still easily recognizable two hours after having been eaten, and then regurgitated.