This summer, my in-laws took a self-guided tour of the Pacific Northwest, visiting several national parks. In their travels, they came across a hoary marmot (which is a pretty funny name, even though the “hoary” contained therein refers to its silver-gray color and not promiscuity). They sent a postcard to the kids detailing their encounter with the hoary marmot.
Apparently, it stood out in Luke’s mind, because “hoary marmot” ‘came up’ (pun intended, keep reading) two weeks later in an altogether different context.
Late this summer, Luke made the big switch from toddler mattress to twin mattress. (We haven’t gotten him a bed yet – the mattress currently rests on the floor.)
To celebrate the occasion (and out of necessity because of a dearth of twin sheets), we got him new sheets.
Bedtime went well – he was very excited about his new bed and sheets. But an hour or two later, we heard a frantic scream from his room and soon discovered that he had hrown up all over his pillow, the top of his sheets, and onto the floor (it was a voluminous amount of vomit, and not just for a three year old but for any adult as well).
Throwing up was a completely foreign experience to him – he hadn’t been sick in that way since infancy, and he was justifiably freaked out, repeatedly saying, “This came out of my mouth onto my bed, this came out of my mouth onto my bed…” and pointing to the vomit.
Karen and I began to calm him down, and I started the unenviable task of cleaning up the vomit (it was disgusting – I was sopping it up with his new sheets).
Thankfully, Luke recovered quickly – his stomach must have been pretty upset (he had complained that his stomach hurt after dinner), and he became giddy, probably because he felt much better after getting the offending food out of his system and because both of his parents were in his room in the middle of the night. He was excitedly running around his room playing as I cleaned up the vomit (there were a couple of close calls where he just missed stepping in it).
When he asked what it was that came out of his mouth, I explained what happened to him, using the word “vomit.” I mustn’t have done a very good explaining it, and he must have connected the words “vomit” and “marmot,” because as I was bringing the sheets downstairs, I overheard him explain to his mom what had happened: “Mom, there was a hairy marmot in my stomach, and it came up out my mouth!”
Walking down the stairs, carrying a trash bag filled with vomit and soiled sheets, I couldn’t help but smile – both because my son was feeling better and because of his ‘hairy marmot’ retelling.
My original plan was to take the trash bag and just dump it directly into the washing machine, but Karen informed me that this was not an option (there were a lot of vomit chunks) and that I needed to rinse out the sheets first.
Tremendous.
So at about 11pm on a Sunday night, I stood in our dimly lit backyard spraying my son’s vomit off his new sheets with our garden hose. And while I couldn’t see it, I could feel the ricochet hitting me in the face, arms, legs, and hair (don’t worry, I showered immediately afterwards).
Yet still, I couldn’t stop smiling because of my giddy little boy and his ‘hairy marmot.’
(Fatherhood is tough to understand sometimes but easy to love.)
I hope you enjoyed today’s serving of ‘mac & cheese,’ and that it doesn’t upset anyone’s stomach.
