Grandma Henke

My grandchildren are hurling … puking … vomiting … with projectile force.   Their parents are having to clean up all manner of icky stuff because this flu hits without warning and the children sort of wake up in the middle of the process.     

I have cleaned up many a terrible mess in my day, but the one I have the hardest time facing is puke.    My gag reflex is weak.   No … it’s strong.   I have compassion for the poor sick person but my stomach is way too sympathetic to their plight.

Lynn, on the other hand gets faint at the sight of blood.   He has been known to pass out on the floor at the veterinarians office when the dog is bleeding.   

Because each of us has a weakness that could have inhibited the care our children might have needed when they were young, Lynn and I came to an agreement.  We divided up the responsibilities of parenting according to our weaknesses.   For example, he cleaned up the barf and I took care of the injuries and trips to the emergency room.   Hey, it’s better than “paper, rock, scissors”.

Now here is the strange thing about the matter.   If either of us happened to be the only one home and there was no choice but to do what needed to be done … we could do it.    When Warren ripped his upper lip clear open to his nostril Lynn was home alone.   He cleaned him up and picked me up at the church on the way to the doctor’s office where I was practicing the organ.   From that point on he was no longer any help.   Likewise, I have been known to clean up vomit in an emergency.    We only absolutely couldn’t do it when there was a back-up person around who could handle it for us. 

It’s a good thing we married each other so our children could be properly cared for in all circumstances.

My children were well aware of our problems.   One time when Lynn was out of town one of the boys threw up downstairs in the middle of the night.    One of my other sons came upstairs and woke me up to tell me about it and here is what he said:  “Mom, Ryan threw up but don’t worry I’ve got it all cleaned up and put clean sheets on his bed.   I gave him a pan in case it happens again, so go back to sleep.”  

Then there was the time I sliced the base of my thumb open while cutting up some vegetables.  My daughter who was probably about fourteen insisted on going in to stand by me while I got stitched up.   She knew her dad couldn’t and didn’t think anyone should have to go through that alone.    Lynn sat in the waiting room with his head between his knees so he could drive us home.

That’s it … that’s the interesting story that came to my mind tonight when for the 3rd night in a row one of her kids has thrown up in their bed.   This time it was the one in the top bunk.     Ewwww that must have been nasty.