Cleaning Up

Last night Stephen didn't want to eat much of his dinner, an unusual occurrence for him. Later, while we were driving to pick up Tab at work, Stephen complained that his stomach hurt. By the time we arrived at Tab's office, he was making retching noises.

"Are you going to be sick, honey?" I asked.

He said he wasn't, but my motherly instincts told me not to believe him. I rooted around in the car and found a plastic bag.

"Here you go, Reno. Hold onto the bag, and if you think you're going to be sick, throw up into it."

Tab joined us then, and I explained the situation. On the way home we stopped by Tab's photo lab to drop off film. As we were pulling into the parking lot, Stephen began throwing up. Most of it made it into the bag, but his coat and pants were a mess by the time he was done.

We wiped him off as well as we could, throwing the paper towels away in the dumpster behind the lab. Matthew and Daniel complained bitterly about the smell, and I prayed that neither one of them would get sick in reaction to the odor.

Fortunately, we made it home without further incident. Stephen slept through the night without getting sick again and seems fine this morning. I hope it was just a passing episode.

I have to hand it to Tab: he's a full partner when it comes to dealing with the disgusting aspects of parenting. While I helped Stephen undress, Tab went back outside and cleaned up the car. He also laundered Stephen's befouled clothes. I'm glad I'm not the only one around here who has to deal with all the disgusting jobs that are part of parenthood.

Tab went to the eye doctor today for a long overdue checkup. The good news is that his eyes are healthy, but the bad news is that his next pair of glasses are going to be bifocals. Just last week I joked that I was sleeping with an old man after he found out that he has arthritis in his lower back. Now I know it is true.

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