I never realized how much I could love someone until I met my wife. We didn’t realize how much we could love another until we had children. There is something about those kids, so genuine, so innocent, so dependent.
Every day we look at them and not only are we amazed at how much they’ve grown, but are humbled at the fact that our actions will impact them forever. It’s as though their adult versions, from decades in the future, are looking back at us, demanding that we do right by those two.
This is something we think about every single day, and we would do anything for them to ensure they have whatever they need to grow, thrive, and survive.
One of the most significant things we do for them involves our youngest, who requires a blood transfusion once every four weeks.
For the most part, these trips have become father / son days where we spend time reading and doing art projects, or playing games and watching videos on a tablet.
Our trip last week was much of the same, with one important difference that stretched me to my limits. As we were parking, my son started complaining of a belly ache. Simple enough I’m sure. But thinking he may be hungry, we got food into his system, and soon, he seemed fine.
The day continued without much of a second thought. The process went smoothly, we watched videos and played with slime, with the anticipation of a car wash on the way home sitting in the back of our minds. Overall, this was a great day and looked to be a great finish!
Once the transfusion was complete, we packed up our belongings, hopped in the car, and headed off to clean up the car. Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
Ten minutes later we came to a complete stop. Rush hour traffic had kicked in and the interstate was horrendous. It was then that my son began to complain about his stomach once again. I realized this may be more than just hunger, but I offered food once again, hoping for the best.
He proceeded to open the bag, poured everything on the back seat, and grabbed what he wanted.
He then mentioned something and I thought he was finished, so I reached toward the backseat and he handed me the bag, with what I imagined would be the rest.
As he placed the bag in my hand it felt like a warm liquid. I though it may be the slime, but something didn’t seem right.
“Is this the slime?” I asked.
“No, I threw up!” he replied.
Eww … just eww!
While that wasn’t quite as traumatic as helping his constipated brother in the Air and Space Museum a few years earlier, it was close. But, I was impressed by the fact that a six-year-old had the foresight to empty a bag prior to throwing up!
I set the bag on the passenger side floor, rolled down his window, and said, “We’re out of bags. If you need to throw up again, please throw up out the window!”
Obviously, my stress level was rising, especially since we were still setting in traffic, in a construction zone, with no way to pull off. Then, he started to complain that his back hurt and began to cry. I turned to check on him and found him laying on the floor, curled up in a ball, and there was nothing I could do! For some reason one of us was feeling a little strained!
So, as my stress level continued to rise, I called my better half, and unfortunately, she didn’t answer, which really didn’t help my thoroughly happy mood!
Ten minutes later we were able to get out of traffic, and another ten minutes later we were home. I was still in a lovely mood and my poor son still feeling ill. I placed him in our bed, got him some water and crackers, we turned on some cartoons, and soon, both of us were feeling a lot better. Unfortunately, the trip to the car wash has still not taken place.
Aimee finally called to see where we were and it was obvious that she hadn’t heard my message … so I put her on speakerphone and proceeded to fill her in.
But as a good husband, all I could say was, “Thank you, I’ll remember that next time.” But what I wanted to say was, “Honey, I just went through hell with this kid. I felt horrible already and really don’t need a lecture!”
When she too got home and heard my message, she told me it sounded like a car accident. “Really? ” I thought to myself. “A car accident? Gosh, I wonder why!”
But now, with our lives returned to normal, I went to go clean the car … which included the food, laptop, slime, and the bag filled with puke.
And while the smell permeated the closed confines of our car, a phantom sensation of warm puke in my hand, I thought about both kids … both at their current ages and the grown men they will become. I realized that this experience likely brought us closer, Aimee and I looking forward to walking beside both of them, helping them through the hard times, and hoping that someday they will look back and think that we were good parents.
And if at some point in the future they find themselves reading this post, I want them to know that we love them! I’m proud of them and we’ll always be there for them … puke in our hands and all!