Breaking the silence of the night, the unmistakable small voice of my seven year old daughter Skylee called out, “Daddy.”
Immediately, instinctively, I was up and striding toward her room. I never knew what the midnight call would bring. About a year ago, and a year before that as well, she had wet her bed in her sleep and called to me. If only I had been so lucky this time. “I threw up,” she said meekly.
She hadn’t just thrown up; she’d thrown everything up. It’s wasn’t just everything, either, it was everywhere. It was on her, the side of her face, and matted to her hair. It was on her sweatshirt, and it penetrated to her tee shirt. Both quilts, her pillow cases, and her sheets were a mess. “Why couldn’t she have called Mommy instead,” I thought to myself.
I got her up and into the shower, with little chunks falling off her along the way. It could have been worse. After all, in the past she had thrown up on me while sleeping.
While Skylee showered, I put everything into a pile in the family room. The next day I would clean it off in the bathtub before throwing it in the washing machine, but I wasn’t going to deal with it at 1 AM. Skylee washed her hair, and I helped her out, getting her dressed and blow drying her hair. I put her in bed next to my wife, who somehow was sleeping right through the ordeal.
I snuggled down next to Skylee on the six inches of bed that were left for me and placed a towel over the quilt that covered Skylee, just to be safe. We’d used the towel method with some success previously, sparing our covers. Fortunately we didn’t need it, as Skylee got up some time later and threw up again, this time in the bathroom sink with me holding her hair back. At that point she was good; she would sleep through the night.
As for me, my portion of the bed had shrunken to Rhode Island proportions, so I sat next to Skylee and stroked her hair and told her how wonderful she was until she fell asleep.
With nowhere else to go, I ended up at the last refuge of the domesticated male: the couch. 
How about you? Have you experienced something similar? Got a story that can top Andy’s? Share it below!
— Editor
Image by: Oslan Arslen, SXC
Andy Falk is a father of two incredible daughters ages born in 2001 & 2003, Skylee
and Sabrina. Andy is very active in the lives of his daughters, from coaching soccer to supporting them during swimming season to just plain doing homework or hanging out. Andy also surfs regularly, bicycle commutes and is a successful Realtor in Marin County, CA. Andy earned his MBA from San Francisco State University with an Internet Marketing concentration, and holds a BA from the University of California at San Diego where he studied and surfed in the 80’s.
I’ve been there, Andy, though my worst story is coming home from work to find that everyone at home had thrown up, with a trail running from the living room to the bathroom. I had to go buy a carpet steamer to get that mess cleaned up!
Yup – been there, done that on several occasions — and the bottom line is that it sucks. Just sucks. And that’s all there is to it. My advice? Take a deep breath, deal with it, give lots of hugs after… -B
Oh yeah, I’ve been there. I even had to call my husband to come home from work to help once – our oldest was throwing up and I was three months pregnant with rampant 24/7 nausea. Before it was all said and done, we were both in the shower! Lots of cuddling and bucket time after though!
The worst was recently though. Our two year old who was fine when we left the house to take my husband to work suddenly let out a tremendous amount of vomit. Pulling over to clean her up, we realized how bad it was. We changed her clothes only to have her vomit all over again just a few minutes later. In 45 minutes she had vomited three times and continued until late in the evening at which time I had to take her to the ER, praying the trip would be uneventful. The entire day I didn’t get anything done because each time I would get up to go do something, she would throw up. The worst part of it? She’s one of those “no warning” vomiters.
oh yes, been there & done that. The problem I have when this sort of thing happens is that I start to throw up as well. The sight, smell, or even sound of puke starts that gag reflex in me. So my wife always ends of cleaning up more than the original stuff.
Kindof good though, because my wife knows if she sends me to the rescue that she’ll have more to clean up. So I don’t get asked to work the puke scene very often.
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Thanks! -B
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