The story of the old shoes, April sunshine and plastic bag. Read on…
I was half-aware of it as I brought baby girl’s old shoes to the front door this morning. Usually in having to drive across town for an appointment, I would have fished out her new shoes. These, though highly functional, were the type that I only reserved for kinder and park days, where an endless amount of bark and sand would enter them off her own free will.
I was half-aware. Still, being a little late, I pushed on and ignored my thought.
Maybe it was that. Or maybe a voice on a different level of consciousness urged me on, knowing what lay ahead…
Half an hour into the car trip, she mentioned her tummy. It was sore. She said it once, twice, three times. I didn’t know what to think. Was she playing games with me? Is it because I was feeling ill last night, and she was somehow imitating me? I asked her specifically if she was unwell, and when I asked she said she wasn’t… but then she would lie on her side, close her eyes, and almost nod off. She managed to take off her shoes, and dropped them onto the mat below her.
I honestly thought she was just tired. But then, 10 minutes before we arrived at our destination, she started to cough. It was out of nowhere. She was covering her mouth, coughing incessantly, and I said “honey, don’t cover your mouth, let it out.”
And it CAME. She pretty much projectile vomited a large amount, and then another large amount. All down to the mat below her. I had just entered the freeway, was driving at 80 km/h, holding her hand at the same time to comfort her, while telling her to just “spit it out! Get it out!”
She did. ALL OVER HER OLD SHOES.
And suddenly, I remembered. Needless to say I care about her first and foremost, and had she thrown up on something expensive, I still would have told her to ‘go for it.’
- But in that moment, I was suddenly grateful.
And the timing. Sure we were nearly on our way to the appointment, but that would have to be a raincheck for now. I pulled over when I could, made the call, and then kept on driving in 10 minutes of stinky vomit smell (open windows DO NOT make a difference) and arrived at my parents house requiring a bucket, old sponges and the hose.
How lucky was I that this had happened close to our destination, and also, on old shoes? I could care less as I hosed them down. These were on their way out anyway. She walked around in her underwear ALL DAY at my parents house, as I had no other change of pants for her.
2. Thank God it was a warm day.
My parents gave me plastic bags before I headed home. “You never know when you’re going to need them.”
Sitting her on a towel on the way back, after we had spent 3 or so hours at my parents house, where she got her appetite back, ate pasta, drank some milk and had teddy bear biscuits, I thought all was fine.
I THOUGHT all was fine. She was laughing herself silly with my Mum in the backyard.
Something had just upset her tummy before, right? It was a once-off, right?
I wasn’t so lucky on the way back. Because about half way through my trip, 45 minutes from home, she woke from her nap. And was complaining. And was hot.
AND STARTED COUGHING.
Now, doing 100 km/h on the freeway during peak hour, I fished out one of those plastic bags given to me only hours earlier, and gave it to her, saying “if you’re going to vomit, do it in there!”
She vomited… to the side. In the car. AGAIN.
And then the next lot… went IN THE BAG. Phew.
The timing of when it happened, and the distance from home, sucked balls.
3. But the fact she got a fair amount in the bag, was AWESOME.
And that is my gratitude story of the day. Of the old shoes, sunshine and the plastic bag.