I’m going to be a little off-message today. That’s because my brain is hardly functioning at all right now, and so the three different ideas I had for writing about today (apprehension over whether to sign up for a race, the results of my VO2 Max / Body Composition test, and finally knowing what’s wrong with my right shoulder and how / when / whether I’ll fix it) just require too much effort.
I’m asking for a pass today, folks.
The Joys of Parenthood
About 5pm yesterday, one of my twin five-year-olds started barfing. She barfed about every twenty minutes or so until 8pm, at which point she was so exhausted she went to sleep, waking up every couple hours to barf (really just dry heaves) again.
The other twin, on the other hand, was happy and not at all sick as she went to bed.
That changed around 11:30pm, when she woke up, barfing.
The cleanup was not easy.
She did not go back to sleep until 3am.
So I’m not functioning at peak capacity today.
That’s Not Even Remotely My Best Barf Story
The thing is, the twins don’t throw up often. My oldest boy, on the other hand, used to have a barf trigger that was known far and wide for how little it took to make him throw up.
Back when he was a little kid, my wife and I cleaned up barf so often, our efficiency and capability at this task actually became a source of pride. We could strip the sheets, clean the carpet, swap out new pillows and blankets and get everything hosed down and cleaned up in five minutes or less.
I was feeling particularly pleased with myself because I had heard the noise coming from his bedroom — the gagging noise that means I had two seconds to get into his bedroom and try to catch the barf in a bowl. I had sprinted across the hall, grabbed the bowl we always kept by his bed, and managed to catch the entire stinky mess. No cleanup tonight!
And then, as I carried the bowl o’ barf out of his room to the bathroom, I tripped.
The bowl fell, staying — magically — upright, landing flat on the floor.
Those of you who have studied physics and know things about equal and opposite reactions and the way a dish shaped object can distribute matter know what this means.
For the rest of you, let me simply say this: The room was painted in barf.
And so was I.
I do not believe I have ever been so angry, embarrassed, and grossed out before. Or since, for that matter.
It would be months before we stopped finding dried-out barf chunklets in the room, and I don’t think the smell ever went away entirely.
OK, what’s your best barf story? If you can make it bike-related, that’s awesome. It’d be nice if someone stayed on topic today.
How About a Prize?
Oh, you want a prize? How about this for a slightly unusual prize (I honestly don’t know if this is something anyone would want or not): I’ll give a fatcyclist.com email account to the person with the best barf story. Yep, either a full-on POP account or an email forwarding account — you’ll be able to say, “just email me at email@example.com.”
PS: Today’s weight: 165.6
PPS: Next week, I promise: not a single post about food or the regurgitation thereof.