now, lost in the shuffle of all the far-more-important ear infections was the fact that SpazMonkey crapped himself just before school let out last Friday afternoon. He had some story about how he SAID he needed to go and the boys room was not working and the teacher wouldn’t let him go and yadda yadda yadda, but it sounded an awful lot like one of his stories where you’re feeling really sorry for him because the bully did this and that and nobody helped him… and then the alligator appears. (i’ve already explained to the boy that his stories often “jump the shark.” not surprisingly, he likes that particular turn of phrase.)
so i had no idea if he had just decided to try to hold it himself, gambled and lost, or if a teacher had really not let him go to the bathroom when he asked to, or if he was just plain sick. then i got to dealing with the ear infections, and forgot about the crap in his pants – until sunday night, when i thought i was going to die. at 5 pm, i was calling my mathematics-brain-trust friend EvilRedHead to ask what the heck the formula for the height of a triangle is (so i could cut some “fact triangle” math flashcards for EvilGremlin,) and by 9 PM, EvilGremlin was putting his brothers to bed while i lay facedown on the living room floor wondering if the prospect of spending the night in a pool of my own vomit was enough to motivate me to try to drag my face to a toilet or not.
so i spent the entire night sunday alternately puking and laying in bed shivering and sweating, and crawled around the next day – yet another thing that is damned near impossible with gimpy elbows – while PositiveRoleModel was yet again out of the house.
by tuesday morning, though, i was in decent shape, and by thursday had decided that, yay, nobody else in the house was going to get sick. of course, SpazMonkey had picked it up from school, and it was still getting passed around the school, as i discovered when the school called me at 10:45 to say that EvilGremlin was “not himself” and his teacher had sent him to the office insisting that he was sick, though EG was denying it (which he always does, not wanting to miss school.)
when i showed up to the office, there were three other kids laying on their separate cots and couches in various stages of contorted, pitiful moaning. and i must say: good call on his teacher’s part. she avoided the pukepocalypse going down in her classroom by less than ten minutes. as i was signing EG out, he stood up to go, and got as far as the carpet in front of the secretary’s desk before bending over and ralphing all over the carpet. the secretary, principal, and nurse all stood there and watched it with a complete lack of alarm or even disgust – they’re pretty much numb to anything involving puke at this point in their careers, god bless them.
i had MonkeyBeef with me, barefoot and thrilled as shit to be allowed to walk into the grade school. this is a kid who, at the age of 18 months, smashed a baby gate, unlocked a front door, broke a screen door, and walked his own ass 3 blocks toward the school before being picked up by the police, all in the 5 minutes it took me to poop one morning last september. this is a kid who angrily kicks at his brothers as they exit the van in the morning, and then works furiously at his own seatbelt until the van doors shut, and then howls all the way home in outrage at not being allowed to go to school with them. as far as he’s concerned, this is the most awesome shit that he has ever seen go down IN HIS LIFE.
now, granted, EG approaches the business of puking very much like his daddy: balls out. PRM has dubbed the technique “screaming at the toilet.” when they puke, it’s not just “urk” *splash.* it’s more of a “HEEEEEYRRRRRRROOOOOOOWWWWRRRRRR!!’ sound, followed by the splash, then some ragged breathing, some follow-up spits, and a couple more rounds of “HOOOOOYEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRWWRRRRROOOOOOOOOWWWWW!!!” MonkeyBeef cackled so hard at the ralphing that he could hardly breathe, looking around to beam at all the onlookers as if to say “did you see that? and wasn’t it AWESOME?” after each retch, he’d yell “YEEEEAAAAH!” with his hands in the air, and then he’d spit on the floor right along with EG, until the next round of retching forced him to dissolve into helpless cackles again.
in the midst of all this, another kid came flying into the office, having been sent to see the nurse about some sand in his eyes. adorable fat little kindergartener, eyes squinted nearly shut, careening from wall to wall, saying “i got sand in my eeeyes…” and of course, the four adults in the room basically chanting “stop, stop, stop, stop!” had no effect, and he plowed inexorably toward his date with “sandals full of some big kid’s puke.” this made him cry. which made MonkeyBeef laugh. which was good, because it covered up my laughing.
and this is why i love people who work in grade schools: they were all not only laughing too, they were calmly and efficiently calling the janitor, keeping the three other sick kids from getting up to see what was going on, and comforting the blind, pukey-footed kindergartener. i may think my job is hard some days, but those people are freaking superheroes.
so anyway, i’ve spent the day with a miserable EG curled up on the couch, trying to keep MB from bouncing all over a big brother who can’t stand the feel of so much as me rubbing his back, let alone a bowling ball butt trying to execute a flying teabag from the back of the couch. PRM made it through the day at work, sort of, but he’s down with the sickness now, too, and went to bed pretty much the minute he got home.
the best part about writing stories like these – in this case, about MonkeyBeef being a degenerate – is hearing his daddy’s laugh in my head as i do. whether he’s reading it or not, this blog has, from the very beginning, always been written for an audience of exactly one. i love you, dude.
