Cleanup on Aisle 12

Background: Tums are like candy in our house. I can't remember exactly how it started, but somehow J got hooked on them. I figure they're basically just a calcium supplement and harmless enough, so we go along with it. (Not that a kid who goes through several gallons of milk a week really needs a calcium supplement). We did double check with the pediatrician and were assured that a couple a day were fine. And so, J gets "minty treats" from time to time.

I think I must have given him his first one sometime when he had an upset stomach. He developed a bad habit of going into "sick mode" and complaining that his stomach hurts when what he really wants is a minty. I've had numerous heart-to-hearts with him about not telling me he feels bad when he really doesn't. Mommy needs to be able to know when he's really sick. In my attempt to keep from rewarding him when he lies, I give him a minty if he just asks for it, but not if he tells me his tummy hurts. Makes sense, right? I'll give my kid medicine if he's fine, but not if he tells me he feels sick.

The story: Today I needed to do some grocery shopping. I hate to be gone from the kids for a long time during the day, I hate going grocery shopping late at night, and bad things happen when I take the kids by myself. "Wouldn't it be fun if we all went together?," I suggested to B. Good man that he is, he pretended it was a good idea and came along.

While I was getting the groceries, B and the kids were doing all the fun things there are to do at Meijer - playing with the toys, visiting the lobsters/fish/hamsters, riding the purple dinosaur. . .As I was nearing the end of my shopping, they met up with me. J had a bit of a pained look on his face, and said, "Mommy, my tummy hurts from walking and walking." My first thought was that he was angling to get some medicine when we got home. Then I started to say something about people's legs usually hurting from walking. But before I could finish the thought, he let out an enormous burp. Followed by a tidal wave of lunch.

Vomiting upsets J very much. He was crying and reaching out for me. I'd like to tell you how I forgot all about myself and how repulsive and foul-smelling I find vomit, how I scooped him up and comforted him. But that would be a lie. And since my dear husband reads my blog and was there to witness the event, I'll stick to the facts.

I wanted so much to be comforting, but instead I found myself jumping backward trying to get away from the spray. When it seemed it was over, I maneuvered behind him to try to help him without coming in contact with the stuff dripping down his front. The first words of comfort I managed to get out were, "Ew! Don't wipe that on my. . .Uck, too late!"

I could tell by the understanding smile on the face of the lady next to us that she was a mom too.

His mood improved significantly once he'd thrown up, so we completed our errands. All was well until we arrived home. I gave J a special box of treats to carry in the house for me. No sooner was he through the door than he got that look again. Then again with the belch. And again with lunch.

Was I super mom this time? No, I'm afraid this time the first thing I said was, "Don't throw up on the cookies!" So you see my priorities: Never mind the carpet. Never mind the clothes. Not to mention my poor suffering child. Just don't wreck my cookies.

The moral: Never give your children medicine as treats because then you won't be able to tell when you're really about to be thrown up on.