Patience Test #4572

Case in point: my family minus one 7 year old made plans to join Daddo in going to one of his school’s events. It was Valentines Day. Meaning  class parties, chocolate, cupcakes, and high doses of powdery sugar packets. All followed by a game of touch football on the playground in 65 degrees. Our oldest has weaknesses as do all kids. He loves sweets. He also cannot pass up a game of football (or any other sport involving a ball) so he participated heavily in both activities; junk food eating and football all within an hour of each other. So when he came to my classroom feeling puney and complaining of ‘I’m hot’ naturally I lay blame on post party upset stomach. 

When we all arrived at the house from work and school, we had to quickly unpack school bags, pack diaper bag, get the other kid ready for soccer and drop him off at the grandparents. Like normal around here, the kids’ ailment was forgotten by Daddo and I as we all rushed around like mad people. 

The hour drive seemed ok until the quiet, sick one lifted his head up from playing on my Nook in the backseat and said he felt sick. First, no second parent mistake of the night was allowing him to play a game in the backseat. First mistake eventually realized was taking everyone on this trip after hearing one wasn’t feeling well. 

We pulled into a Whataburger for a quick dinner and junk food/ sick child continued complaining and laid down in the booth. As we finished up and were leaving he acted like he may be better but still looked pale. Without discussion Daddo and I marched forward in our plan of attending the school event. Now I’m not even mentioning the normal mishaps, stressors, chaos that was also in our car known as multiple toddlers, but that doesn’t even deserve mentioning because of the hell we were about to step into. 

Five miles from our destination on a 70 mph highway the oldest who should know better, sat up in his seat and commenced to hurl all over the console between Daddo and I. I mean spew. Everywhere. I grabbed a towel in my floorboard and threw it across the already destroyed console and shoved his face in it as he had no control what so ever in the direction of his regurgitation. Daddo yanked the steering wheel to the shoulder and skidded to a stop as we yelled so lovingly for the NINE YEAR OLD to open his door and point it anywhere but to the front of the car. Anyone can imagine what the next 15 minutes of our lives involved. Two towels and a half empty travel case of baby wipes was all we had to work with. Covered in his own body fluid, he had to change. Luckily for us, we still had the trash bags of hand-me-downs that some friends had given us the Sunday before at church. Daddo went to digging. All at least 2-3 sizes too big, our kid changed into some cargo shorts and a faded Nike shirt that hung off of him like bed sheets. Without hesitating, we told him to put on his shoes, puke free, and get in the car. School event started in 7 minutes. ‘We’re still going?!’ He asked in disbelief. 

‘Yeah we’re going!’ Daddo again lovingly responded. It’s what we planned, it’s my job and we’re almost there!’

 

Then we both continued to shower him with affection and Godly patience as we explained to him about junk food and it’s effect on playing outside and playing video games in the back seat. 

With a car FULL of post Valentine Party fun and the sweet aroma of chocolate, we again soldiered on to our destination. Don’t forget about the two toddlers asking 276 questions every minute about the recent events they’ve just witnessed. There still there. 

We got to the school event only a few minutes late, aware of the throw up on our sleeve and pants. We marched on with no intentions of sharing too many details with those we spoke to. The sick kid could easily pass as rapper Eminem’s son as his baggy shorts sagged to below his knees and his wrinkled Nike shirt hung off his shoulders. He was mortified. He hates to be embarrassed or looked at anyway so this was the worst for him. Daddo took the three year old to the restroom where I later found out he dropped his full drink cup from Whataburger splattering all over the bathroom floor….. Which Daddo had to wipe up with toilet paper seems how it was a air-blow-drying only restroom. Such patience. 

Sick kid sat close to Daddo in the back of the arena and didn’t move for most of the time. I sat with the two littles and friends and shared part of what we just went through. I grabbed my phone finding it had some ‘stuff’ on it so I used one of the few baby wipes I had left and cleaned it off. 

The school event ended and I noticed Daddo and sick kid walking out toward the exit. By the time I got over there I saw Daddo nicely telling a lady from the host school that our son had again lost all control of his body, collapsed in the floor of the main foyer and threw up again. He may have left out some of those details but that is what he was thinking. 

He stayed in the bathroom for a good five minutes while I waited outside the door straddling a puddle of water spilled from the three year old’s lidless water bottle. No towels in the restroom meant napkins from the concession stand to prevent one of the many fans piling out of the exit from slipping. 

Finally we all got back in the Valentine Party-smelling suburban and pulled out towards home as quickly as we could. Hour drive ahead of us. 

35 minutes into it sick kid and little girl were peacefully snoozing. Little boy was playing loudly with his toys in the far back seat. 

Patience was tested again. Sick kid sat up straight, convulsing and doing his thing again over the middle console. I just stuck my hand on his mouth and tried to catch what I could as Daddo ever so calmly pulled the car over on the shoulder once again yelling, ‘open the door, open the door!’ We began to lose the patience test. He fell out of the back sit, dropped to his knees in the tall dead grass next to the car and carried on moaning. I stood next to my side of the car in disbelief. Then sick kid started to roll down into the ditch of tall grass repeatedly saying ‘someone help meeeeeee….’ I couldn’t help but giggle. Daddo did not. I went and helped him out of the ditch and back in the car.  I used the LAST baby wipe on his face trying to soothe his emotions.  

‘Just. Get. Home.’ Daddo and I kept thinking to ourselves. And saying out loud. 

Two miles from our house we heard it again but this time he graciously told us to pull over. He threw up in his lap, the seat, then hung himself out the side of the car repeating, ‘help me, help me.’

We didn’t even attempt a clean up. 

We got home, got the littles in bed, told the sick one to shower and we rolled down all four windows in the car. 

As put out as I was from the horrible, horrible, night I knew I needed to tuck in the sick kid and love on him a little. He said he was done throwing up as I asked him several times. I rubbed his back and talked motherly to him as the sick child he was. Then he sat up and pointed his head off the side of his top bunk where I hung to the ladder yelling, ‘DO IT ON YOUR PILLOW!’ 

Again my hand was the cup that runneth over. I yelled for towels. I yelled for self control. I yelled. Patience, patience, patience. What a test. 

Sick kid was shunned to sleeping on the floor directly in the doorway of his bathroom for the rest of the night, which shockingly wasn’t too bad. We all slept 7-8 hours and currently the sickness is gone. 

Post Valentines Day junk, car sickness or a real stomach bug? We may never know. But what we did learn from this horrible, super bad experience is sometimes you just gotta let go of your plans. Just let go. A sick kid means to turn the car around. No matter how far you’ve come, turn it around. We also learned, me more so than Daddo, laughing at your son’s loss of body control is not showing your motherly kindness. Yelling is not a sign of patience. Letting go of what you planned to do, adapting to a change in plans, now that is showing patience. I need to work on that.