Pop Quiz, Hotshot

Pop quiz, hotshot. A child crawls into bed with you and wants to cuddle. Two seconds into the cuddle, she sits up and vomits all over you. What do you do? What do you do?*

If you’re me, twenty minutes after the event, you tweet the following:

But what happened in that intervening twenty minutes? I’ll let you decide. I either:

1) Calmly placed her on the floor, wrapped my vomit-covered self in a nearby blanket in order to contain the dripping, and ushered her into the bathroom to clean the both of us up.


2) Shrieked “Oh my God!” while simultaneously leaping out of the puke pile on my bed and tossing my daughter in the direction of the nearest washroom door. The combined hysterical screaming/crying emanating from both myself and my daughter caused my son to come racing into the room whereby he immediately started jumping up and down while shouting “Where’s the puke?! Where’s the puke?!”, and I yelled something along the lines of “Stop it! Stop it! Help your sister open the bathroom door!”, in between my own retching that was so violent I was brought to my knees as tears streamed down my face making the mascara that I wore the night before (but had neglected to remove), streak down my cheeks in black rivers.

It’s quite obvious the goddess of health has forsaken my family. I think I’m allowed a few moments of motherhood fail.


Anyone know where I got this (modified) quote from? If you know, let me shake the hand of a fellow pop culture geek.


  1. C @ Kid Things says


    Also, I’m assuming you went with B. Personally, if this would have happened to me I would have laughed. Like a blasted crazy person. Because really. I hope she’s feeling better.
    C @ Kid Things´s last blog post ..Zebra Buddy

  2. Leanne says

    It is funny that we had a conversation about gag reflex only a short while ago, and I learned your reaction. So I am going to pick B. I had a similar experience but with exploding diarrhea from my baby. Changing the diaper, cleaning up, thought she was done then WHAM—diarrhea comes flying out of her bum and all over me. I actually remained calm. Took my pants off, finished cleaning her (oh did I mention I turned her so she would not pooh on the carpet which meant I had spraying pooh everywhere). Doorbell rings. Hubby home. I answer the door (pant-less). I explain. His answer: You have it. My answer: If it was me would I answer the F Door. I think it is a rite of passage for all mothers to have those moments in life.