When my toddler vomitted all over the garden and himself during a bbq with friends yesterday afternoon he was feeling pretty sorry for himself. As he was busy bringing his boots up my first action was to try and clean some of the chunks from his person. As I stripped him off and attacked him with wet wipes I looked down at his little face. He was so sad and so vulnerable, and despite being so gross I didn't hesitate to scoop him up, puke and all, to give him a cuddle.
After a few more tears and a bit more snot and vomit I got the two of through the shower and into some clean pjs and rejoined the "party". Never let a bit of puke come between you and a good bbq! The boy calmed down and with a few sips of water and a viewing of Toy Story 2 he went to bed without too much trouble.
4am. The joy that is 4 am. He wakes up feeling very sad and very hungry, my dear darling husband in his dreary state and infinite wisdom lovingly went and made him a bottle of milk and then put him in our bed. A fact I only became aware of when the whole lot came at speed out of his mouth and into my face and my hair and everywhere else in the bed! Nice! Again I looked down at my sad little boy and despite the fact that both he and I were quite literally dripping with sick nothing else seemed as important as giving him his cuddles.
After stripping him, the bed and myself off and loading the washing machine, making my husband a cup of tea while he cuddled the vomit monster I had a shower, again.
As I shampooed my hair for the third time I couldn't help but flash back to my early 20's when washing a boy's vomit out of my hair would have probably made me love him a little less! Now the boy is small and squishy and made by me it kind of makes me love him more. I never thought there would be a time where vomiting in the middle of a bbq or puking in my face whilst I slept would be acceptable let alone endearing but that is the power of love! Stronger than the smell of vomit every time!