So there’s this “thing” about being a mom that really icks me out. I always know its coming at SOME POINT. And I dread it. You can tell by the title what I’m talking about can’t you?

Wednesday morning, our little guy’s perky Gymboree instructor chirped, “Remember to use the hand sanitizer gel. There’s a nasty stomach virus going around.”

She wasn’t kidding.

That virus came a’ callin’ about 6 p.m. that night. Did I mention I have a huge puking phobia? Did I mention it is one of the reasons I waited awhile to have a child? Because I knew at some point there would be barf. And I’m what you’d call a sympathy barfer. My stomach used to roll at the mere sight of the word “vomit”. I couldn’t watch ER. Someone was ALWAYS upchucking. I was scared of labor. Not so much for the pain. But because I heard sometimes you throw up. I know, I know. What a wussy!

But what “they” say is right. It IS different when it is your own child. And over time, you become somewhat desensitized to the sight and sounds at least. But the smell? Not so much.

And really, when your sweet, onery little child is worshiping the porcelain god, you can’t help but feel so badly for them. They feel so awful and don’t understand what’s happening. The only thing you can do is pat his or her back and say, “It happens sweetie. Sometimes, even big kids have to throw up. Its ok.”

And then I feel thankful that although my little man is sick today, he’ll probably be better tomorrow, if not, a day later. He’s an active, healthy kid. He’ll get over this. There are children out there with much bigger monsters to battle. And for them, I pray.