If You're Gonna Spew. . .

Child #2 begins Kindergarten this Tuesday. If you didn't already know, it's a BIG deal, for both of us. For the past 6 years, he's been with me during the majority of each day. Preschool has never been longer than 5 hours, and never for days in a row. And while he's had playdates, been to summer camp, and I've been out of town on occasion, we spend the majority of our days together. Good or bad, it is what is . . . and we've certainly had our share of both.

Today was Kindergarten Orientation.

Great!

Right?

WRONG!!!!

Hubby is out of town, so I've got no reinforcements. I wake up early and decide to get ready in the downstairs bathroom, so as not to wake the sleeping cherubs (all three of them). They eventually wake, and #2 just lies in bed. He actually looks like he could go back to sleep. He's a good sleeper, but he always wakes up early, feeling good.

He says his head hurts, he needs a drink of water, he needs help getting out of bed. . . you get the picture. I took his temperature (normal) but offer him some Motrin in case his headache really could be helped with something mild, which he declines. I quickly decide this calls for a huge dose of sympathy, so I lay it on thick. He eventually gets dressed, brushes his teeth, even takes a shower. He asks for toast for breakfast and can he eat in in the car on the way? Of course. #1 & #3 are off to the neighbor's house, and #2 and I are off to meet the teacher.

He and I sit through the 45 minutes of school director & K teacher talk. Fine. He acts nervous, but if you weren't his mom or dad you'd never know it. We meet a few other students and parents, and I stand around to talk to the teacher. I begin my greeting and look over at #2. It looks like he has a booger on his lip, so I hand him a tissue. I continue talking and look over again, and he's catching vomit in his hands!!!!

THIS POOR KID!!!!!

I shovel tissues his way, wishing I had one of those kidney shaped plastic things that are always in the hospital but never seem large enough to do the job. As gracefully as I can, I turn to the teacher and say, "It looks like we've got a nervous stomach. I'm going to step over here and break open those Clorox wipes I brought in today, clean up our mess, and be on our way." I do just that. His teacher asks him if he'd like to see something in the room while I get myself together. He agrees and everything is honky dorey. Really.

Here's the kicker - we get into the car. He eats the remaining three quarters of his toast and quickly says, "I wish I had another piece of toast." We head off to Target and he's back to his usual self.

"What just happened?" I say to myself.

At the Back-To-School potluck that evening, his teacher asks me if I think he's going to be okay on Tuesday. I sure hope so ("but I'll be available all day if you need me.")