Palmolive! You're soaking in it!

Last night was a rough night. I have 3 kids. You know how it is when kids get barfy. Not good. On a scale of 1-10 of rough nights with barfy kids, this one was probably a 7 - and only that good because my son is 11, and I finally just got so exhausted that I decided he was old enough to be independent. I let him fly solo. I let him leave the nest and worship the porcelain god all by his lonesome. It was quite a night. But I'm getting ahead of myself. It all began with this:



I grew up in a family where we would get sick in the bathroom, do our business on our own, and then go give a report to mom. I never went to get my mom first, to have her come hang out with me while I lost my lunch. It honestly just never occurred to me that I might have comfort and companionship during my wretched moment of need on the bathroom floor.

When I got married, a whole new world of nurturing and compassion opened up to me! I turned out to be the sickest of morning sick pregnant women in the world. It extended not only into 24-hour mode, but drew itself out through all nine months of pregnancy. My sweet husband stood by my side, stroking my hair and holding my head when I was too weak to hold my head up any longer. He even cleaned up after me when I missed. He was my hero. I had never known such kindness and tenderness in my entire life. I honestly had never known that such true service and pure love existed before I knew my husband. He showed me how to love, and that love became a part of my own life.

And then came our beautiful children. I was not prepared. I don't know how anyone can be, but I can honestly say that I was clueless. I had babysitting experience, and loads of nieces and nephews, but I had no little brothers and sisters. I had no real practical application and no handbook. I was making it up as I went along. I felt very incompetent. However, I had one thing in my favor - I had this amazing husband, and all that really incredible love he had taught me. He was really patient and sweet, and I was learning so much from him. I was really good at changing diapers and things like that. And when it came to waking up with a screaming baby in the middle of the night and being patient about it, he had that part down. Between us, we made a pretty good team.

Over the years, we've learned what we've needed from one another. He's a professional when it comes to diaper changing, far from his very-first-diaper-change-ever, on the day our first daughter was born. And I've actually learned patience and the ability to not want to scream at the children in the middle of the night when they're sick!

After much ado about background, that brings me back to the beginning of my story: Palmolive!

So, I had just settled in for a nice, deep sleep - a sleep well aided by medication (because that is the only way I sleep well), when I sensed a presence at my bedside. My "mom-senses" were tingling. This is something akin to "spidey-senses", but it really is just a super-power given only to mothers. All mothers who read this will know exactly what I'm talking about. Men who are in-touch with their soft side will get it too. So, "mom-senses" tingling, I rolled over to see my beatiful son, looking not so happy. I have no idea what he said. I had drug-induced brain fog. But the "mom-senses" understood - there was imminent barf. Middle-of-the-Night Super-Mom sprang into automatic action. Good thing.

Now, Middle-of-the-Night Super-Mom can do things that I simply can NOT. I am Ruth. I am disabled. I have a super rare and bizarre, obscure and freaky brain disease called pseudo-tumor cerebri (which means, literally "It's NOT a tumor!!!" Yeah, really - "false brain tumor") I just have too much cerebrospinal fluid, so it squeeeeeezes my brain, which hurts all the time and makes me stumble around a bunch. I run into walls. I'm a regular comedy act. Ha ha. Invite me to parties. I'm here all week - try the veal!

So, back to the story (I digress alot, eh?) - Middle-of-the-Night Super-Mom got up and ran to the bathroom with beautiful Jared. He squatted over the toilet, and proceeded to do what you would expect him to do. My job, since I learned to be a loving and compassionate mom from my sweet husband, is to stroke my son's hair and rub his back, giving him comfort during this time of horrendous distress. So that was what I proceeded to do. And I continued to do it . . . HOWEVER . . . I became increasingly alarmed as I watched something very wrong take place. My beautiful, beautiful son - my perfect child, my baby boy, my youngest offspring began to produce effluent the exact color of . . . WHAT WAS THAT???

My mind was reeling . . .

What was wrong with him???

Had an alien taken root within my darling boy, gestating in his innards until this very moment when it was ripe and ready to emerge and take over the world? Surely not! I had seen too many of those stupid movies in Jr. High.

I am  the queen of the medical world. I knew I could figure this out. Think! Think! Think! Be reasonable! Bile is NOT this color! Copper? Something about copper??? Does Wilson's Disease do anything like this??? Of course not! Don't be stupid! Oh, you wouldn't believe all the things that went through my mind in a heartbeat. I handed him some tissue to wipe his mouth . . . WHAT IS THAT COLOR???

He was done for a minute. Darrin was there, and I had to use the other bathroom for a quick break. As I sat there, a sudden thought occurred to me: PALMOLIVE DISH LIQUID!!! BINGO! That was the exact color of Jared's vomit!!! Exactly how or why, I could not imagine, but that was it! Now, I have to say that the very identification of the color pleased me, because I had a name for it. I'm weird that way, I admit. But in the same instant I became completely dizzy. Why on earth was my son throwing up something the color of Palmolive??? I immediately began running down the list of everything in my kitchen to see if there was anything possible that could be that color. There just wasn't. I was back to freaking out.

My moment of privacy had passed. I had to return to the real world, where anything could be awaiting me. Who knew what other dishsoap colored disasters might be taking place in my absence? So I put on my calm face, and walked out into the living room, where daddy and son were snuggling. Jared wanted a drink of water. I calmly walked into the kitchen and got him a drink, then calmly walked back to the living room and calmly began to interview him. "Now, Jared," I said calmly - almost placidly, serenely, "I need for you to really think about this. Just be calm." (See how I calmly slipped that in?) "I need for you to think about everything you've eaten tonight. Is there anything at all, not that I'm worried, but anything at all that might have turned your vomit that great color of green???" Smile calmly. Blink. Blink. Blink.

His response: "No . . . I can't think of anything, Mom. Really."

Silence. Blink. Blink. Smile.

"Oh, I did eat a blue and a yellow cupcake . . ."

I'm sorry, did I breathe recently? I can't recall. Blink. Blink. Smile. Sharp inhale . . . aaaaand . . . "OHHHHHH!!!! And blue and yellow make GREEEEN!!!!!" See how clever Middle-of-the-Night Super-Mom is??? What brain disease??? Sharp as ever, this one! I even know which colors make what!

I should be on CSI.

So, poor Jared barfed something like every 5 minutes for the next hour or two, then slowed down a tiny bit for the rest of the night. The Palmolive gave out within the first half hour, but after the mystery was solved it really lost its charm. Now I just keep thinking about those commercials with "Madge" from the early '70s. Good old Madge . . .

Brave Jared - I know he's 11, but he's still my baby. Isn't that just the way it works? Do our kids ever stop being our kids?

And my sweet Darrin was so nauseated he had to take medication and stay in bed most of the night, bless his heart. Cancer is his demon right now. He really just is the best daddy in the world. He used to be the middle-of-the-night super hero around here. I guess his cancer has really made me step up and be better at being the mom of the house. I honestly can't say it has made me love my family any better or any more. They are my treasure. They are my life. Darrin's cancer has made me hold my family closer, though. I'm not happy or grateful for this trial. I can't pretend to be. But in the middle of the night, when I'm holding my sweet son and counting my blessings, I am grateful for the lessons I'm learning. I'm glad I'm holding my loved ones closer and that my faith is stronger.

Now it's time for a nap.