Today, while at the hair salon, my hairdresser, Jess, was talking about her 4-year-old spontaneously projectile vomiting, and we were having a good laugh about it. Of course, I had a "I've walked on the moon" moment, and one-upped her, but judging by the fact that she couldn't even do my hair because she was laughing so hard, I don't think she minded. I knew in that moment that I needed to record it for posterity.
I have forgotten many of the details of this adventure, so my children (Ethan especially) might need to correct me. However, here's how it sits in my memory banks:
When Ethan was about eight years old (meaning Mark was around five, and Johannah was two), we lived in Dayton, Ohio (Oakwood specifically). We lived in a little tiny house, on a little tiny piece of land, but we didn't care; we weren't living in an apartment anymore. Just ten feet from our backdoor hung a bench swing in our neighbor's back yard. Gene had told us that the kids were welcome to come over and swing on it.
One afternoon, Ethan wandered over there, and with no one to swing, he just stood around pushing it. Johannah, seeing him, toddled over into the yard also, and in one fell swoop, walked in front of the swing that Ethan was so vigorously pushing. She ended up being knocked off her baby feet up with the seat bashing her in the forehead, and within seconds, a huge gash began pouring blood down her face. Okay, so the gash was only an inch long, but it felt like the amount of blood coming out of it was exponentially more.
There was nothing I could do, but grab Johannah, put her in the car seat in the Previa, tell Ethan to get in also, and go inside and grab Mark. We were going to the emergency room on the base--a good 20 minute drive away.
One problem though: Mark had a stomach virus and had been vomiting for the past day or so. He was in his pajamas, and I don't believe we grabbed any shoes as I pulled him out of the house.
By the time I got in the driver's seat, there was blood all over Hannah's face, and that, mixed with tears and snot from her screaming bloody murder, made for quite a sight (and sounded even worse). Somehow, Mark ended up in the front seat which by today's safety standards, would not have been allowed back then.
I drove as fast as I could to the ER, finally heading north on I-675, doing 65 mph. At this point, Mark turned to me and told me that he was going to throw up.
There was no way I was going to stop, so I told little five-year-old Mark to vomit out the window that I had rolled down from my seat. However, he was so small that his head barely cleared the window, so while driving, I pushed his head out the window just in time.
Of course, I had envisioned the vomit just falling to the ground, (just as I envisioned a piece of gum doing the same thing last year while driving to Philly). However, I just about flunked out of my high school physics class, so my knowledge of wind speed and projectile vomiting was severely limited. Instead of the vomit nicely landing on the ground as we sped by, it ended up plastered on the side of the speeding van (in a rather nice pattern that grew larger as the vomit was pushed further back down the side of the van). No worries though, because at least it wasn't inside the van, am I right, mothers? I can only imagine what people thought if anyone actually witnessed this.
By the time we got to the ER, we were all a mess. However, as Jess pointed out, I am a hero mom. I've never had family to help me out, and I spent a large part of the kids' childhoods being a single parent while John worked his way through medical school and residency. I just did what I had to do.
I can hardly imagine how we all looked. In fact, if we had had cameras on phones (or cell phones at all) back then, I would have no doubt taken a picture, because something I have learned through the years is that the most horrific experiences make for the greatest stories. Having a picture makes the story even BETTER. However, I didn't, but with Mark in pajamas and no socks, and Hannah's bloody face, and Ethan's fear of being punished later, we had no problem getting put in a room immediately :-)
And for weeks after, anytime we rolled up that specific window on the van, pieces of vomit would come up with the window and remind us that not ALL of the vomit had made it out of the van. And I do believe that, to this day, Hannah has a scar above her left eyebrow.
I have forgotten many of the details of this adventure, so my children (Ethan especially) might need to correct me. However, here's how it sits in my memory banks:
When Ethan was about eight years old (meaning Mark was around five, and Johannah was two), we lived in Dayton, Ohio (Oakwood specifically). We lived in a little tiny house, on a little tiny piece of land, but we didn't care; we weren't living in an apartment anymore. Just ten feet from our backdoor hung a bench swing in our neighbor's back yard. Gene had told us that the kids were welcome to come over and swing on it.
One afternoon, Ethan wandered over there, and with no one to swing, he just stood around pushing it. Johannah, seeing him, toddled over into the yard also, and in one fell swoop, walked in front of the swing that Ethan was so vigorously pushing. She ended up being knocked off her baby feet up with the seat bashing her in the forehead, and within seconds, a huge gash began pouring blood down her face. Okay, so the gash was only an inch long, but it felt like the amount of blood coming out of it was exponentially more.
There was nothing I could do, but grab Johannah, put her in the car seat in the Previa, tell Ethan to get in also, and go inside and grab Mark. We were going to the emergency room on the base--a good 20 minute drive away.
One problem though: Mark had a stomach virus and had been vomiting for the past day or so. He was in his pajamas, and I don't believe we grabbed any shoes as I pulled him out of the house.
By the time I got in the driver's seat, there was blood all over Hannah's face, and that, mixed with tears and snot from her screaming bloody murder, made for quite a sight (and sounded even worse). Somehow, Mark ended up in the front seat which by today's safety standards, would not have been allowed back then.
I drove as fast as I could to the ER, finally heading north on I-675, doing 65 mph. At this point, Mark turned to me and told me that he was going to throw up.
There was no way I was going to stop, so I told little five-year-old Mark to vomit out the window that I had rolled down from my seat. However, he was so small that his head barely cleared the window, so while driving, I pushed his head out the window just in time.
Of course, I had envisioned the vomit just falling to the ground, (just as I envisioned a piece of gum doing the same thing last year while driving to Philly). However, I just about flunked out of my high school physics class, so my knowledge of wind speed and projectile vomiting was severely limited. Instead of the vomit nicely landing on the ground as we sped by, it ended up plastered on the side of the speeding van (in a rather nice pattern that grew larger as the vomit was pushed further back down the side of the van). No worries though, because at least it wasn't inside the van, am I right, mothers? I can only imagine what people thought if anyone actually witnessed this.
By the time we got to the ER, we were all a mess. However, as Jess pointed out, I am a hero mom. I've never had family to help me out, and I spent a large part of the kids' childhoods being a single parent while John worked his way through medical school and residency. I just did what I had to do.
I can hardly imagine how we all looked. In fact, if we had had cameras on phones (or cell phones at all) back then, I would have no doubt taken a picture, because something I have learned through the years is that the most horrific experiences make for the greatest stories. Having a picture makes the story even BETTER. However, I didn't, but with Mark in pajamas and no socks, and Hannah's bloody face, and Ethan's fear of being punished later, we had no problem getting put in a room immediately :-)
And for weeks after, anytime we rolled up that specific window on the van, pieces of vomit would come up with the window and remind us that not ALL of the vomit had made it out of the van. And I do believe that, to this day, Hannah has a scar above her left eyebrow.
Was this the infamous Kool-Aid vomit? The one that went down into the crack of the window and made it all sticky? :-) I love how there are multiple stories of this occurring!
ReplyDeleteYes! I remembered (grossly) that the vomit was pink, but I didn't remember specifically that it was Kool-Aid. Maybe that's why we don't drink it anymore?
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