I've discovered a powerful weapon in the fight against the everyday annoyance of childraising, but I fear it may be one too devastating to yield.
Last weekend my perpetually rambunctious three-and-a-half-year-old son woke us up in the middle of the night to tell us that there was pizza on his bed. Upon further inspection I realized that it was not actually pizza on his bed but rather ex-pizza, cheesy goodness that had seen the inside of my child but decided to go back the way it came in rather than experience the great slipand-slide out the back side. You will not believe how many layers of blankets, sheets, teddy bears and mattress one pile of pizza puke can soak through in just a few minutes. If I had left it overnight I fear it would have kept on going down and by morning a greasy film would have popped up off the coast of Madagascar.
By the way, search the Internet for "Map Tunneling Tool" if you want to kill a fun few minutes finding out exactly where you would end up if you dug a hole straight through to the opposite side of the Earth.
My son spent the next 12 hours barfing his wholewheat crust guts out, and it was during this time that I made the realization I'm sure many other parents before me have made: The best way to keep a kid from driving you crazy is to keep him sick at all times.
Sure, it was a bit sad to watch the little guy suffer like that, but those parenting moments where your child really needs you are the most fulfilling moments in life.
"Daddy, can you feel me better?" Aw, come here little buddy. I've got a huge hug for you. And no, I can't really make you feel better, but I can sure hold you tight while you fight through this. And please try not to barf on my feet.
The really great moments came a little later when the puking stopped and the recovery phase began. Now the kid was just happy to be alive and unconvulsed. There was no screaming, no kicking, no opening up daddy's laptop to email his boss kdhcielbcyqgxb blbxw];l';\.
Instead, there were just lots of snuggles, stories and sleep. Beautiful, quiet sleep.
The problem, I suppose, is that it's a little too effective. When you have a little zombie at the breakfast table quietly moaning while poking at his oatmeal, you begin to long for those days when he was not a zombie but a werewolf devouring his food, howling at his brother and frightening his mother.
There were other problems too. Like the problem I felt rumbling in my own stomach two days later as I sat happily at my desk at work. Not long after that I was sitting somewhere else entirely. And not long after that I was kneeling in that same
spot. And then 12 hours later I was still in that horrible, horrible spot.
For me, getting sick is different now that I have kids. In my own recovery phase I can't just lie on the couch for two days re-watching all five seasons of The Wire. There are too many curious little eyes and ears around.
"Daddy, why did Bodie have to blast Wallace? I thought they were fwiends?" Sorry, by the way, if you are still waiting to see The Wire and I just ruined a plot point for you. I guess I could have given you a Spoilew Alewt.
It was not just me who got cut down by the
flu shrapnel my son was blasting out. Literally one minute after I finished my first prayer to the porcelain gods, my wife burst into the bathroom holding our one-year-old son who was painting the walls like a can of spray paint filled with chicken stew.
Nothing makes a little baby look more grown up than seeing him perched above the bowl, tiny hands grasping at the slippery porcelain, getting rid of everything in his belly.
"Rough night, buddy? I hear ya. Hit the milk pretty hard, eh? Never again."
Two days later it was all just a memory that will live on only in our minds and in that big greasy
spot on our comfy chair. The little baby was back to banging on the table if food didn't arrive at his mouth promptly every 2.5 seconds. And my older son was back to running around and screaming "booty head" and other ridiculous things he learned on the playground, stopping sporadically to "hug" his baby brother (the same way a boa constrictor hugs a water buffalo).
And I'm back doing what I love best - helping my beautiful little family get ready for the day and then scrambling out the door to get to my office just before all hell breaks loose.
