This past Monday afternoon I drove Alex to a friend’s birthday party. Once we got there, we went through our usual routine: parked the car, grabbed the gift, reminded the child to BE A KIND FRIEND, then climbed out of the car and joined the festivities.
However, I soon realized that this party was different. Because about three minutes after our arrival, I noticed that the other mamas? WERE LEAVING.
Y’ALL. It was a drop-off birthday party – a first for us. And I don’t want to overstate my delight, but I think it may have changed my life in countless wonderful ways. I mean, I enjoy a large group of screaming five- and six-year olds as much as the next uptight person, but people, we’re talking TWO HOURS OF ALONE TIME. TWO HOURS. OF ALONE TIME.
No kidding: as soon as I told Alex goodbye, I wanted to drive to the cul de sac at the end of the street, screech out some celebratory donuts and then honk the horn repeatedly as I drove back past the party house toward my totally unanticipated but much-appreciated afternoon-o-freedom.
IT’S A NEW PARENTING DAY! GLORY!
A couple of hours later I picked up the little man, and clearly he had not left the confines of the bouncy/jumpy/slidey apparatus for the entirety of his birthday party stay. We said our goodbyes, hopped in the car – and just as we were driving away, he announced that he had a stomachache. Because I’m Mother of the Year, however, I gave absolutely no credence to his stomachache claims. I just figured that either 1) he’d had too much cake at the party or 2) he was trying to get out of eating chicken and broccoli for supper.
I had no intention of falling prey to his kindergarteny schemes.
But when we got home, the unexpected happened: the little guy took off his shoes, walked back to his bedroom, stretched out on his bed and covered up with a blanket. Since that has happened approximately, oh, one time in his whole life, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that The Sick, It Was Coming.
Long story long, he woke up around 10 that night and told me he thought he needed to throw up. But then he said he didn’t need to throw up. And then he said, “Wait! I need to throw up! I don’t want to throw up! I hate to throw up! I’m scared to throw up, Mama! And you know what, Mama? My grandmother calls it ‘vomit!'”
And then he turned his head and threw up and/or vomited for what felt like, oh, approximately twenty five minutes.
Suffice it to say that there was a whole lot of sickness from 10 Monday night until 10 Tuesday morning, and now that I think about it, I realize that’s totally how parenting works: two hours of free time Monday afternoon; twelve hours of Throw Up Duty Monday night. It’s an Irrefutable Law of Motherhood.
Alex finally fell asleep again around 2 Tuesday morning, only to have another round of All The Vomit hit about an hour later. After I’d gotten him a fresh cold cloth and sufficiently disinfected the sickbay, he looked up at me with his tired little eyes and said, “Mama? Aren’t you going to say it?”
“Say what, buddy?” I asked him.
“Aren’t you going to bless my heart?”
So I leaned over and rubbed his little head and said, “Bless your heart, baby. Bless your sweet little heart.”
And he smiled and closed his eyes and dozed off again.
I stood there for a few seconds just looking at him, and as I straightened his blanket and picked up the towel that I’d used to wipe his face, I couldn’t help but think that sleep or no sleep, sick or no sick, there’s pretty much nothing better than getting to share life with that little guy. I am so thankful that I get to be his mama.
And he blesses my heart. Every single day.
Chances are you will never read this ( how do people read 100 comments?) When my 23 year old son was ten years old, we were interviewing with the principal of a private Christian school. We wanted to get him in the school for his Sixth grade year. He sat across the desk from a very proper Southern man that was wearing a classy black suit. I could not believe my eyes as my son throws up (no…he never did that) across the desk of this man. I was speechless and mortified and the principle jumped up to give him a trash can….”Bless your heart.” he said to my son. I have never forgot that kindness.
Bless his heart – hope he feels better!!!
You are so brave – I have just started doing the drop off at birthday party thing recently and my daughter is 8. We adopted her from foster care at 6 though, so I guess I am doing ok. :)
Oh dear Lord. I do love a good vomit story. You made me laugh. Thank you for that.
I loved your story!! I’m from the south & now living up North & they TOTALLY make fun of me for saying “bless his heart”. That’s how I was raised… my grandmother would say it for the exact reason you did… it reminded me of her…. Great memories-Thank you!!
That is just almost the sweetest thing I’ve ever read.
As I started to type a comment to this post, my own kindergartener ran for the bathroom to vomit for about the fifth time this afternoon. She also told me that her stomach hurt this morning before church…but I did not believe her. I thought she was trying to get out of going to church so she could stay home with her dad and two younger brothers (who have diarrhea). I realized I should have listened to her at the end of the service when my 2nd grader (also named Alex!) came running in to find me because Emily was throwing up in the hall!
Oh, this made me smile with delight (at the blessing part, not the puking/vomiting part). What a sweet, sweet boy you have.
Parenting isn’t always easy but I’m with you, it’s such a blessing!
By the way, I’ve always wondered at what age do the parents drop their kids off for parties. Now I know. :) Thanks!
oh my… what a sweet read.
bless your heart,
at Christmastime, my 27 year old daughter was here visiting. I heard her up in the night ..vomiting. I stepped into the bathroom, into a old precious position, “mom”. To hold her head, give her water and a fresh wash rag and sit with her and pray was turned ot to be a precious time.
we should never underestimate any moment with our children…
I’m so sorry your little one was sick…but, that was just about the sweetest post I’ve read in a long time. Hope he’s all better!.
Well shoot fire, I was laughing my way all the way through right up til the end when you turned it into a tear-jerker. Bless both your little pea-pickin hearts!
We just went through the same thing in our house. Praying that he feels better soon!! I enjoy reading your blog. Thanks for always sharing from your heart
Bless your little heart! That was the sweetest post! It makes it all better when they say something unexpectedly sweet like that.