Bedtime stories

It was slightly pass 1 am when I heard the hacking that has become an all too familiar sound over these past few weeks that Brae has been sick. Sleeping with a four-year obviously has it's downfalls, the worst of which is the sounds he makes in the night.

Because he talks in his sleep; whines, laughs, kicks and farts. And most of the time I am able to completely tune him out. My sleeping mind works on a parental filter- only what needs to break through my subconscious does. Therefore, Brae can wake up and do headstands, practice his downward facing dog and recite a sonnet, and provided he is still safe on the mattress, I will remain blissfully unaware and dead to the world. Yet the moment those chunky feet hit the floor and his body eases off of the bed, my eyelids have flown open like a pair of venetian blinds.

So there I was enjoying my rest....
hack
The first time in over three weeks I had gone to sleep before Midnight.
hack
Possibly dreaming, though I don't remember
hack
My mouth slack jawed and rimmed with spittle
hack- gurb
When something broke through the filter
gurb-blech
And I felt something wet
bleeech-bleeech
And then......
EwwwwwwMoooooommmmy!

Alarmed, my eyes flew open to the sound of Brae wailing and.....vomiting. EVERYWHERE. On him. On me. On his stuffed dog. Hell, I bet the some of the stream of steady goo that shot out of his mouth last night with such velocity found itself in Linda Blair's home, soaking her nightclothes as well as mine. Lucky for me, there is nothing I like more than to wake up in the wee hours of the morn to find the ass-end of a partially digested Chicken Nugget staring up at me from the blanket wrapped around my chest. It was a real delight and surprisingly....pretty well intact.

In a stupor, I held my nose as I stripped the sheets. Stripped Brae. Stripped myself. I somehow managed to grab a trashcan from the bathroom for more bedside puking and tucked my son back in.

For the next few hours I was awaken intermittently by the gurgling sound of vomit rising in a throat. And every time I sprung to my feet and produced the bedside puke bucket in just enough time. From the hours of 1am- 4 am I was practicing my lunges across the mattress. I was becoming quite good at it and Brae had his aim down as well. Were we slowing rising among the ranks as the worlds best heaving duo.

He woke up at 7:30 this morning, completely unnecessary as I had already decided sometime around 2 am, that work today was as desirable to me as wiping my ass with fire-ant infested pine cone. I tried unsuccessfully to convince him back into bed but my alluring words and promises of pudding waffles were no match for Speedracer who lay dormant in our DVD player.

He's been slowly recovering through the remainder of the day and although he isn't holding much down, he still has his energy. And of course, Speedracer. On repeat.