Four years ago I would say I didn’t know how to watch after a child.
Four years ago the mere thought of emesis (better known as throw-up or vomit) would make me gag. But even still, at fifteen years old I made the agreement to become a godmother and at sixteen I had a godson.
Today on our long drive to visit my dad at work (only an hour, but to both a four and one year-old, it seems like forever), Carter suddenly made a strange face. I knew that face. The one where you’re trying to focus on anything but the strange feeling in your tummy. The one that turns pale and the lips tighten to contain anything that may want to come out. I’d seen that face before – hell, I’ve even made it.
I hit the brakes as I pulled into the breakdown lane, threw the car into park, tapped on the hazard lights, whipped off my seat belt and jumped out of the car. By the time I’d gotten to him, he was holding his hand under his chin covered in bile.
“I threwed up, Cole,” he said and then made the face again.
As a CNA, the first instinct was to catch it. And I did just that – with two bare hands.
I’ve now learned the most essential things to carry in a car when travelling with children (which I had):
- A bottle of water
He felt better, which was good, and after cleaning him, my car, and myself (while consoling a crying one year old because of a mixture of thinking it was time to get out of her car seat and upset her brother was sick) we enjoyed our visit with my dad.
But I have a whole new respect for my parents. There was definitely a time or two (hundred?) growing up that my parents did the same for me. Dealing with a child who gets motion sickness even going ten minutes down the road had to be tough. But they stuck it out and I thank them for that. (and wholly apologize)