Saturday, September 29, 2012

Middle Woes

We've been visited by a puking bug this week. One of my personal favorites, truly.

It began with Spencer, one of our two middles. He refused to admit illness and blamed me for his sour stomach, claiming I hadn't been feeding him properly for days.  Shortly before the moment of truth, he began furiously shoving down crackers and pretzels in an attempt to plug the dam. That plan did not work. Kudos to my guy for making it to the bathroom. We place high demand on hitting the toilet when you regurgitate here at the Shepherd home. 

Liam was next on the hit list.  He made good use of the tray on the stroller during our morning walk. Lee, ever the compassionate man, asked if we could keep going.  I wish I was making that part up.

I was next. I was miserable but was not revisited by the ghost of dinners past. Thank you Jesus.

Today we had all moved on from the saga.

Well, all of us minus Laurel, our true middle child. I feel badly because my sympathy had run out, especially since she is a serious hypochondriac and claims for herself  the symptoms of whatever illness the rest of us are going through.  Yes, we have shared the story of the boy who cried wolf.  No, it has had no effect.

After a day of fasting I insisted she eat. I felt certain it would help.  She felt certain it would not. I won and she ate a meager bowl of noodles.

As I was getting her brothers ready for bed, Laurel called upstairs to report that the dastardly deed had occurred.  The noodles had made a reappearance. All over the carpet.

Me: You didn't even make to a trashcan?

Her:  Mom, I threw up. Alone.  It sucked.

Me:  We expect more of you. You're 12. You should make it to the bathroom.

Her:  Thanks for asking if I'm okay.

Me:  Are you okay?

Her: Whatever.

Her brother:  I'll go check to see if she really puked.

Me: (Looking at husband)  This is all you. I've dealt with enough upchuck for the week.

Hubby:  I've got something else...

Me:  I'm telling you, this is you. I'm not doing it. You are.

Hubby:  I think she's got it. She's good.

Me:  I dealt with Spencer. I dealt with the stroller, for Pete's sake! Come on.

Laurel:  (we did not notice that she had come upstairs) Wow. That's great. You send Spencer down to see if I was lying, and now you're arguing over who's going to help clean it up.  I'll just do it.

Me:  (To Laurel) I did not send Spencer down to verify anything. (To husband) I cannot believe you're going to let her clean it up herself.

Laurel went downstairs to deal with the deed.

Hubby: (looking at me) I'll pay her a dollar.

Reaching an all new parenting low, I just rolled my eyes.

Maybe this validates the moaning of all middle children.


  1. Aww...poor Laurel Tell her once I FELL DOWN THE STAIRS in my parents house and no one came and checked on me. And I'm a first born.

    1. Kate, did you have any broken bones? ;)

  2. Replies
    1. You know the deal, Bradley. It's find the funny or go on medication. Hehe.

  3. No, but I think I have undiagnosed whiplash from ANOTHER injury that was ignored. :-(