A mom's super powers

Last night was one of those all parents dread.

And if you're easily grossed out, you may want to skip this post.

We were up half the night dealing with the V-word: vomiting. I don't really know what sparked it, but hopefully, it's gone now.

Ray had a late meeting, so I knew it would be just Sawyer and me all evening. He took a nap at the normal time, but after two hours, hadn't woken up yet. That should've been my first clue, but I thought maybe preschool had just worn him out.

I finally woke him up, and he sprang up from the bed, ready to play. We played for a few hours; he asked for a snack. Everything was very normal.

By dinnertime, though, he was being pretty contrary. Nothing sounded good to me, but I settled on eggs and grits. Sawyer wouldn't eat either. We had leftover taco stuff, so I made him a taco. He ate two bites of it before smushing shell and cheese all over his high chair.

My patience was running out about this time. I'd woken up early, not been able to take a nap and was pretty tired of the dinner war. But I wanted him to go to bed with a full belly so he didn't wake up hungry at 3 a.m.

He stole half my toast with jam and scarfed it down. So I went to our standby meal: a peanut butter sandwich. He ate most of it, and then we went back to playing.

We cleaned up all the toys, put together a train puzzle and then headed off for a bath. Sawyer splashed for 20 minutes or so. I dried his hair and brushed his teeth, and we settled in the rocking chair, where I was going to ATTEMPT to cut Sawyer's nails. For reasons unknown, Sawyer HATES having his nails cut, and often kicks and squirms and cries to avoid it (or at least make it impossible for me to get the clippers on his little toes and fingers.

He started fussing about the nails, and suddenly his sounds shifted to a pained cry. He acted like something was wrong with his mouth, so I thought maybe he'd bitten his tongue. I cradled him and hugged him, trying to get him to settle down. And then he buried his face in my neck and puked all over me.

I don't know where it comes from, but there's this parent power that just kicks in. I don't have a super weak stomach or major gag reflex, but THAT smell has got to be among the worst. I launched into mom mode. I changed my clothes, changed the pajamas Sawyer had worn for 10 minutes and cleaned him up. He drank a few sips of water and went to bed willingly after a few stories.

But the worst wasn't over. Just as Ray and I were going to be a few hours later, we heard him crying and gagging. Daddy launched into action and I followed him. We had to strip the bedding and change Sawyer's pajamas again.

Ray grimaced at the smell, but he cleaned Sawyer up with love and sympathy. When I brought gross sheets into the bathroom, Sawyer was perched on the counter while Ray wiped his face. He kept saying, "Close your eyes, buddy," even though Sawyer was still asleep. When he opened his eyes, he blinked hard, like a little owl that had just woken up. 

He got sick again about half an hour later. We gave up on new sheets and pajamas. I let the now-wide-awake Sawyer watch a train DVD and eat a saltine.

He seems OK today. I am glad but exhausted from being up half the night. And I now have a load of laundry to do and another real bath to give. 

It's nice to know that parent gene just kicks in when it needs to. And those magical powers come with the ability to snuggle up to the worst smelling child you've ever held.