...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

on the 12th day of christmas...

...a little girl threw up all over the Thomas the Tank Engine train table in the children's department of the book store where I work, and when I say 'work' I mean in the children's department!

So that was awesome.

No, wait. I take that back. It wasn't at all awesome. It was like asking Santa for Barbie's Penthouse and waking on Christmas morning with hopes as high as the sky only to find your stocking filled with new underwear and generic chocolates. Hope you enjoy riding around with Skipper and all your friends, including Donny and Marie and Sabrina from Charlie's Angels, in this car I made out of an empty tissue box for you, Barbie. Again! Sorry there's no room for that bionic Amazon, Jaime Sommers. Guess you'll just have to strap her to the trunk, which is never easy, thanks to your inflexible arms.

(the preceding is a true story)

(also true - my hatred for the Thomas the Tank Engine train table in the children's department, where I've seen Bash the Twin Engine live up to its name on more than one occasion when one toddler doesn't feel another is playing fairly. I sometimes dream of setting it ablaze with something acidic...just not stomach acid)

So, no, it wasn't at all awesome. Equally not as awesome? Having to clean that shiz up. The only saving grace? The mess wasn't actually s*#t. Thank you, Santa Claus. Bawk bawk. There was pastries for horking, marshmallows for spewing. Additionally, there may have been some Chik-fil-A for recycling, further cementing my claim that there's nothing I find fascinating about their waffle fries.

"I'm surprised she threw up," said the girl's mother as she scooped the soiled child up and attempted to contain her while I confetti'd the area with paper towels and tried to keep my insides from coming outside. "She hasn't thrown up since Saturday night, so I figured she was better."

Did I mention this was Monday morning, which in and of itself is already a fine slap in the face? No? Well, it was. I'm no doctor, but if I had to do a quick diagnosis, it would go a little something like this: Not better - 1. Better - 0.

I'm also not a hazardous waste materials handler, but I had to be one. The scent of Lysol hung in the air like sadness the rest of the day.Additionally, I also had to be bomb detonation specialist when I thought a parent who began protesting loudly that I was keeping her precious angel from playing on the train table because I was cleaning vomit off of it and how come, how come, HOW COME!!! was going to lose her mind.

Seriously, I would have thought the river of vomit, which is not typically part of the train table's topography, would have been tremendous give away.

Thankfully, she only lost her mind and not her stomach. I can only take so much in one day, and I'm already sufficiently beat down during this time of retail bliss. My only wish now is this headache I have isn't a sign of something more ominous chugging its way toward my intestinal tract because quite honestly, that was one gift I don't want to see keep giving.



Blogger Melissa said...

I'm so sorry about the puking (Merry Christmas!) but I've got to say that a stocking full of new underwear would be a real treat. Not so much the Lysol or Sabrina, but new duds would do this girl fine.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010 9:48:00 PM  
Blogger Logical Libby said...

You should have let the little jerk play in the germs. Merry Christmas crazy Mom.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010 10:05:00 PM  
Blogger The Savage said...

And still, somehow, I lust you...

Wednesday, December 15, 2010 3:25:00 AM  
Blogger SciFi Dad said...

I can't even deal with my OWN kids' vomit most times (I'm really good at being the "helper" parent who gets stuff), so I can't even begin to imagine how you felt.

(Also, those Thomas tables, while awesome, are a breeding ground for disease. It kills me when my son plays with one because I have to stand there the whole time saying, "Keep your hands out of your mouth!")

Wednesday, December 15, 2010 6:30:00 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

You are a brave woman, FADKOG! You're almost through the madness...at least until the day after Christmas when everyone goes shopping again. why do people do that to themselves? Why?!?!

Wednesday, December 15, 2010 9:42:00 AM  
Blogger Craig said...

Hey, mom - knock yourself out. Let yer little Precious play in all the puke she wants. . . (sheesh)

Oddly enough. . . Our kids had a snow day on Monday, but Jen and I both had to work. Jen's work doesn't allow her to take random phone calls, so around noon, my cell phone rang (mind you, I'm at work, normally a bit over an hour from home; on Monday, it took me four hours). It was 6F, who was the oldest of our kids at home, and nominally 'in charge'. "8M puked," she told me. "What should I do?"

Ummmmmm. . . clean it up?

Pound the Vitamin C, and stay healthy. . .

Wednesday, December 15, 2010 10:36:00 AM  
Blogger Bijoux said...

You totally missed my loud burst of laughter at the "She hasn't thrown up since Saturday night" routine......I used to love hearing that on a Monday morning in the school parking lot.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010 11:17:00 AM  
Blogger Cheryl said...


I was going to leave a heartfelt comment about how badly I felt about your day in the puke until I saw that lurking below.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010 1:07:00 PM  
Anonymous Pam said...

But, it's the most wonderful time of the year. Andy Williams said so.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010 4:36:00 PM  
Blogger 1blueshi1 said...

would it make you feel any better if I told you that I found out yesterday that my unemployment ran out? Yep right before Christmas! I applied for the extension but the bill is stalled in Congress and I'm pretty sure those shitheads don't care if I can pay my rent or not.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010 5:05:00 PM  
Blogger Sailor said...

ewwww, blecchh.

I'm sooo glad I don't have to deal with that, makes my nice boring cubicle seem good!

Wednesday, December 15, 2010 8:28:00 PM  
Blogger Anna Whiston-Donaldson said...

Dear Lord. What a nightmare. Ick. Double ick. I work retail, too, and I can pretty much bet we don't get paid enough for this.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010 9:22:00 PM  
Anonymous Kelley @ magnetoboldtoo said...

and again I worship at the feet of our Lord and Saviour Santa Claus that I don't work in retail this time of the year...

Hope they pay you a bonus in Margaritas.

Thursday, December 16, 2010 5:07:00 AM  
Blogger Leslie said...


New location: http://thenewroof.blogspot.com/

Thursday, December 16, 2010 11:37:00 PM  
Blogger Christina Lee said...

*lays aside my breakfast*
I'm going to guess you had no appetite the rest of the day!

Friday, December 17, 2010 9:17:00 AM  
Blogger justmakingourway said...

GAH! Oh god, I can just picture it seeping into all those little track nooks and crannies. Gack.

Friday, December 17, 2010 4:22:00 PM  
Blogger the weirdgirl said...

The fact that you've had more than one post about puke on the train table should really lead management to the conclusion that yes, that table needs to be set on fire and anyone who might pop in after hours to do so should be applauded and possible get a raise.

No? They won't go for that?

Well then, maybe Santa will take pity and go arsonist on Thomas' ass. Because YOU truly deserve a happy christmas.

Friday, December 17, 2010 8:12:00 PM  
Blogger Pat said...



Saturday, December 18, 2010 12:06:00 PM  
Blogger lime said...

i can just barely totlerat4e cleaning up my own kids' puke. having to clean up the ejected stomach contents of someone else's kid.....just kill me now.

Saturday, December 18, 2010 2:58:00 PM  
Blogger Aunt Juicebox said...

This reminds me so much of when I used to work in a children's resale store, where we actually DID have children who would poop or pee right on the floor. I always marched right over with a roll of paper towels and made the parents clean it up. No way am I touching someone else's kid's poop.

Saturday, December 18, 2010 9:26:00 PM  
Blogger Homemaker Man said...

That totally sucks.

I would've A) told parent #1 that "you're surprised? Wow. You're easily surprised"

And B) told parent #2 to go ahead and let her kid play in Puke River.

But I would'v"e ended both exchanges with a jolly Happy Holidays." Thereby ensuring I kept my job

Monday, December 20, 2010 2:42:00 PM  
Blogger tracey.becker1@gmail.com said...

Ah, but it was quite amusing for all of us readers so that's a bonus, right? Right?

Also? If my kid threw up and had been sick before? I'd have kept that gem to myself.

Monday, December 20, 2010 5:39:00 PM  
Blogger Kate Coveny Hood said...

This really makes me see that Thomas Train table in a whole new light... Gross!

And I feel for you on the unrealized Barbie accessory dreams. My mother NEVER did let me have that Barbie pool.

Thursday, December 30, 2010 11:09:00 PM  

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