If I have not mentioned it before, Max is very stubborn (a quality that he gets from both sides of his family) and when he decides something there is no changing his mind. Over the past two days he has been battling the stomach virus. He has also refused liquid – OF ANY KIND. That is right, my son is non-stop vomiting and won’t take in liquid. No Popsicles, ice chips, Pedialyte, Gatorade, water, etc. After about 14 hours of his “no-liquid” protest we were forced to take him to the ER for intravenus fluid.

There are only a few things you have to do as a mommy that can be categorically labeled as “beyond reasonable for any human to have to face”. The first one is cleaning up vomit. I am a terrible parent at handling vomit and it frequently ends with me waving my arms in the air and screaming “HE’S PUKING!!” or “THE SHEETS?! HE’S PUKED ON THE SHEETS!” I really excel at inappropriate comments during these times. This is why they ask for their father. I’m okay with this. When they were infants and they were hungry all they wanted was their mommy – now when they throw up they only want their father. It is all equal.

The second most horrid thing to face as a parent is your child being subjected to painful medical treatments. I really don’t understand the logic when the nurse says in such a deceptively sweet voice, “Now Mom, if you can just hold his hands down and lay your body on top of his while I pull his brain out through his ear.” Really? ARE YOU BEING SERIOUS? DID YOU WORK IN THE NAZI CONCENTRATION CAMPS BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY YOU DELIGHT IN TORTURE! And why do they tell you to “soothe” your child during these times? I’m supposed to speak reassuringly to my son whom you have just poked a giant needle into and somehow that is going to make him forget the second giant needle that is coming? Are you people idiots? Oh, and did I mention that the ER nurse didn’t know how to put an IV into a child and so they had to poke him about A DOZEN TIMES!! After the first four attempts at putting in the IV, and the throat culture swab (because the doctor didn’t believe me when I told him that Max’s tonsils are ALWAYS red and he most definitely does NOT have strep) they kicked me out of the room. I sat outside of that hospital room and listened to them poke my son who screamed “MOOOMMMMYYY” for 20 minutes. My body lurched with uncontrollable sobs. I could not stop crying and indeed I still cry when I think about it. There is nothing more painful, more devastating, than to listen to your child cry out of pain that you have agreed to subject them to.

When they let me back into the room I grabbed Max’s worn out, tired, sobbing little body and pulled him close. He instantly fell asleep in my lap. As he fell into that deep slumber that only illness can bring I quietly cried. He won’t remember one second of what happened yesterday and I won’t ever forget.