I feel as though I am reborn after the steroids wear off. I feel like I can think without wanting to cry buckets. So, here I am: relieved and sleeping and not refereeing every ten seconds.
I'd say the newest experience that I have never had the opportunity to live presented itself during this past steroid bout. Gideon was NOT feeling well, and I'm pretty sure that rain clouds lingered above his head quite a bit. I was told that since the toxicity keeps rising inside of Gideon's little body, things get a little more pronounced in the pain department. But, that's not new news. The new news came when I could see a sliver of the Gideon glimmer in those baby blues. He wanted to go with me to the grocery store! I inhaled that noodle of normalcy and grabbed the keys.
(I need to preface the story, mid-story: Every time we go grocery shopping I tell the boys we will leave immediately if they act or say something inappropriate. I mean, leave the full cart and march out of there. You wouldn't think this is a threat since I can't understand why they would want to stay at the grocery store, but it works every single time. It might be because we sing to the lobster or choose our snacks based on the packaging, I don't know. It's an adventure for them at this point in their lives, and they DON'T want to be forced to do the mommy-stomp-out-of-here walk of shame....Maybe that's it, the threat of embarrassment. I digress...again...)
So, around aisle 12, Gideon had the strangest expression on his face. We were passing something that was more poignant in scent, so maybe that is what triggered it, but he leaned over the side of the cart and threw up. A lot. Here's where it got interesting: Brody, my weak-stomached honey, saw the puke and ALSO puked on top of Gideon's puke. I know. This is probably difficult to believe. I was a little stunned myself. While Brody's addition wasn't as hearty as Gideon's original load, I was panicked. Panicked and exhausted mom who saw the faces of other patrons all around and JUST DIDN'T WANT ANYONE ELSE TO ADD TO THE PILE!! So, what did I do? I ran behind the meat counter to the employee-only sink and ripped open the paper towel dispenser, wet some towels and took the rest dry to the scene of the crime. I got down on all fours and began scrubbing up the puke. I ran, puke to trash can, trash can to puke, until there was only a smear left. I then alerted an employee to disinfect. Once I finished washing my hands in the employee only sink behind the meat counter (funny how no one says anything to a wild-eyed and crazy-faced mom muttering to herself under her breath), I pretended nothing was out of the norm and pushed the cart holding Gideon and guided a bewildered Brody to the not-so-crowded organic section.
"We need to go, guys," is what I said as I began lifting Gideon out of his little seat. Since we were in aisle 12, we had quite the load in the basket already. I was going to leave it all (sorry, employees for using all of your paper towel, soap and now leaving you with an hour of re-shelving...).
I froze as I saw Gideon's little lip quiver and he began to cry, "Mommy! I'm sorry! Please don't make me leave. I'm all better and I won't do it again! I promise!" Rip that heart, baby boy. I realized that if I left, it would seem to Gideon like it was because he did something wrong. He didn't!
"Are you sure your tummy is okay?" I asked, "I don't want to keep shopping if you feel yucky!"
"It's all out, mommy! I'm okay. Please! Can we stay?" Gideon begged and Brody chimed in with agreeing whines. So, judge as you will, but I made the mom decision to keep on shopping. Sure, witnesses to the Puke Apocalypse kind of gave me weird looks as we continued to shop as if nothing ever happened. The old Amanda would have wanted to tell them, "It was puke from his medication. He's not sick, I promise!" But, I realized I didn't care what they thought. OH MY GOSH! I'm growing up....
So, we got a lot on that trip. Mommy no longer cares what people think and we have food in the fridge. Win-win. Oh! And no re-shelving for those paper-towel-less employees. All is right with the world.