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The Egyptian goddess Isis was celebrated as the ideal wife and mother. The blogger known as Dr. Isis has some fancy-sounding degrees and is a physiologist at a major research university working on some terribly impressive stuff. She blogs about balancing her research career with the demands of raising small children, how to succeed as a woman in academia, and anything else she finds interesting. Also, she blogs about shoes. In fact, she blogs a lot about shoes.
...And behold, he raised the motherfucking Jameson on high as Isis bedecked her feet in glory, and the masses were sated. -- The Holy Gospel According to PhysioProf
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Category: Little Isis • Motherhood
Posted on: October 25, 2009 3:14 AM, by Isis the Scientist
Scene: Little Isis falls asleep with his head on Dr. Isis's chest in Dr. Isis's bed watching episodes of Super Why, after Little Isis complains at dinner that he does not feel well.
Act I: Dr. Isis becomes vaguely aware of feeling warm and wet.
Act II: Little Isis mutters, pitifully, "Mommy, I "frowed off.'"
Act III: Dr. Isis wakes up to find herself covered in the former residents of Little Isis's stomach - the bread, apples, cheese, and milk he had eaten for lunch.
End scene.
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Comments
Episodes like that helped me to give up drinking. One night (1, AM) I had a dream that my 2 year old daughter was trying to wake me up because she had been sick. After the second "Daaaaad", I realized I wasn't dreaming and that the vomit covered toddler was 6 inches from my face.
"OK honey, go jump in the tub."
After an hour of cleanup, laundry, desmellification and other duties I got back to sleep.
Alcohol consumption curve looked like 1/(e^x) after becoming a parent.
This year I face the empty nest and so far it sucks.
Posted by: joemac53 | October 25, 2009 7:26 AM
Eventually, you will be defaced will every bodily fluid and excretion from your children. It's part of the rite of passage all parents must endure.
As a corollary, that's why, with subsequent offspring, you don't freak out about it. Now, with my youngest in sixth grade, I find I actually miss it in some twisted way. (Or at least I miss that era of parenthood.)
Posted by: TGAP Dad | October 25, 2009 9:27 AM
You know you're a parent when you grab puking child to make sure the vomit goes on you and not the bedclothes and carpet.
Posted by: PalMD | October 25, 2009 9:57 AM
You guys are crazy! I miss absolutely nothing about getting puked on!
I especially do not miss trying to remove Cheeto dye from my carpets.
Yuck.
Posted by: Pascale | October 25, 2009 12:50 PM
Little Isis is completely recovered this morning and is in the backyard doing some yard work. As soon as he showed any sign of recovery, I put him right back to doing his chores.
The worst part of it all last night was when he looked up at me with his little boy eyes and said, "I'm sorry, Mommy." Poor little muffin.
And, Pascale, if there is anything this event has taught me it is that I need to get the remainder of the carpet out of this house as soon as I am able.
Posted by: Isis the Scientist | October 25, 2009 12:57 PM
@PalMD: lol, I totally agree.
I'm afraid, being a mean mom, I taught my kids to do laundry as soon as they could reach the controls on the machine. Usually they couldn't get back to sleep right after vomiting in any case, so starting a load of laundry was no problem.
Before they could do that I made them strip off the yucky sheets by themselves. (Why do 80% of vomiting episodes occur between midnight and 5 am?)
Personally, I'm pretty glad to be past the era of being up with 4 sick kids, all puking in one night.
Posted by: UnlikelyGrad | October 26, 2009 12:14 PM
You kids-do-the-sheets people are weird. My parents never trained me to wash the sheets, they just put a large bowl beside the bed everytime I was sick, just in case. My uncle was very impressed with my ability to make it to the trash can in the airport at a very young age.
Posted by: becca | October 26, 2009 12:57 PM
I'm with you, Becca. My mom trained us to the bowl very early on. My son, who at 14 knows how do laundry, knows how to use the bowl, swish the contents into the loo, and then put the bowl in the dishwasher and GET A NEW BOWL. That last step was the hardest.
He did wake me up for comfort, but he knew how to throw up into a bowl by the time he was 18 months old.
My husband prefers a ziploc. When he was in chemo, he saw ziplocs as the finest invention of humanity.
Posted by: Lauren | October 26, 2009 2:05 PM