This morning, little kid barfed all over the kitchen table, a box of doughnuts, 2 chairs, a window and about 100 square feet of the family room.
Yeah, I feel sorry for him, that's awful he's sick...but no one should have to go through that kind of clean up process. No one. Especially not me. All alone. My walls and chairs dripping in puke.
I quickly put a shocked little kid in the tub and came back to survey the damage. I gathered some towels and covered the worst of the puddles, still in shock and unsure of what course of action was going to be necessary. I went back to the bathroom to observe little kid playing happily in the tub and then back to the contaminated area to observe the towels not doing much. I got a string mop and a bucket and hot water and bleach and sort of swabbed the whole area down, yelling out every minute or so to check on little kid. Naturally, the swabbing made everything a big bleachy puddle-like mess and ruined the jeans little kid had been wearing but I'm fine with that--I felt better about the distance gained thanks to the mop handle.
I went back over everything with spray cleaner and rags once I got him out of the tub and it's probably cleaner than it usually is, but I still feel like that whole section of the house is contaminated. I might never eat at that table again.
Mr. Ashley threw up this morning before work, so we're probably gearing up for a PukeFest Spectacular around here this weekend (because it always happens on the weekend, right?). I want no part of it.
little kid seems fine now, rifling through drawers, refusing to put pants on, abusing the ice maker and my cat, sneaking batteries into his room, you know, the usual stuff, but he doesn't let minor set backs like projectile vomiting slow him down, so that's not a good indicator of whether or not there will be more puking in my future.
I hope not. I know chances are slim but I really hope not.