The day I found out I’m not THAT mom

Have I ever told you the story about the time Johanna got really sick and I almost passed out? No? Well here we go. Picture it, Summer 2015, a Saturday. JD had gone to Virginia to hang with the guys and Johanna and I had been in DC to have lunch with some friends. We had just settled in the house after a visit from a friend. I was watching tv on the couch when Johanna came over and said her tummy hurt. I went into comforting mode woo woo wooing her and holding her. Suddenly, she jumped up, walked across the room and turned to face me. Her eyes were huge and she was standing incredibly still. All I could think was ‘Oh no, please God, no!’

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And then it happened, like a scene from the exorcist. Pale pink liquid and bright pink chunks flew everywhere. I screamed and then cried. Johanna simply cried. I slapped myself around a bit and said “Get it together Johanna’s Mama! You are a mom and you are supposed to be built for times like this”. But one whiff of the vomit and I cried “I’m not. I’m not built for times like this!” You see, my husband is the gross cleaner upper. Ever since Johanna was born he was the one to rush and clean up the explosive diapers, the spit up, or whatever gross situation she was in. Notice how I keep using the word gross? That’s exactly what it is to me and it is very difficult for me to be around gross stuff as it deals with bodily functions. My husband is the real MVP when it comes to such things. I’m ok with being called a punk. Emotional issues? I got you! Vomiting? Diarrhea? I’mma go ahead and punk out.

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Back to that wonderful Saturday.

As I was standing there trying to decide what to do, Johanna’s eyes lit up again and I was all “Ohnoohnoohno! Run to the bathroom!” She took off trying to get to the bathroom in time when suddenly, two steps away from the door the exorcist seen replays. At this point I almost passed all the way out. I was crying real tears and so was she. I know what she was thinking. “I want Daddy. Daddy can fix this. Instead, I’m stuck with mommy. I’m doomed!” And that’s ok because I was thinking the exact same thing! I headed to a corner and inhaled deeply, still smelling the faint smell of chunky vomit and I told myself to get a grip. To straighten my back and go do whatever it was my husband would do in this situation. So I went and grabbed Johanna and tried to carefully pull her shirt off so I wouldn’t get vomit in her hair. Well she decided I wasn’t going fast enough and started pulling the shirt off herself, almost causing her to have a hair wash night, which she hates. So I’m screaming jumping up and down “Stop it! Stop it now! You’re going to get it in your hair and I can’t take it!” I guess she remembered how much she hated getting her hair washed because she stood as still as a mannequin as I finished undressing her. I wiped her mouth, gave her some water and bundled her up in a comforter as she laid on the couch. Just then JD called. I answered the phone trying to sound normal, but he asked what was wrong anyway. I told him that Johanna got sick and was vomiting. “Awww man, I knew something was wrong, I could feel it. I’m on my way back home.” I tried to dissuade him and tell him to go ahead and stay with his friends, while inwardly doing cartwheels and the wop at the thought of him coming home and handling that mess. He decided that it was best that he came home, and I whispered a thank you to Jesus because seriously, I’m just not that mom.

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After we hung up I went to get stuff to clean up with. I won’t describe to you what that was like. Just know that I was dry heaving and gagging while also bawling my eyes out. Even right now I would like someone to hold me while I cry about it.

It was then that Johanna started crying, and I welcomed the cleaning break to go hold her. She kept saying how sorry she was for getting sick, which I told her was nonsense. She didn’t plan to get sick, it happened to her, and I was very sorry she was sick. She was also upset because she figured her daddy would be mad at her for messing up the carpet. Nonsense. She didn’t do anything purposely, and we were all sad that she wasn’t feel well. I sat there and held her until she went to sleep, then I went back to gagging as I cleaned up the mess. When JD got home I ran to him and let out the biggest sigh of relief ever. The real champ was home; I could rest. I carried Johanna upstairs to bed while he changed his clothes and started to do the real cleanup.

This is one of many reasons I am thankful for my husband. He is strong in the areas that I am weak, and we both know it. He doesn’t shame me for it. He just does what he does best, and I do what I do best, and it works. And I’m totally ok with not being THAT mom. Hooray for those of you that are, but I’m just not that girl and that’s tooottallyy ok!

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