I didn’t realize that I was hungry until we were standing at the farthest corner from the front door at Walmart this morning. I needed one tiny item to finish my latest Totally Tots post.
All of the sudden it felt like my stomach dropped, turned black, grabbed a box of sewing needles, and began to make the upward journey to my throat. Time stood still as I hugged the shopping card for the short moment I felt like I was going to faint. Almost in unison it seemed as if the boys and I began praying reverently that I wouldn’t puke all over the soft white feather pillows we stood next to. I spotted the plastic container isle and figured I could potentially make a dash to a 16 gallon bucket to deliver some rather personal liquids.
For an instant though, I was more concerned about making a mess than feeling better. I loath puking. I doubt many people enjoy their body’s natural response to eliminate an unwelcome guest from your body, but I would almost rather be miserable 5 extra hours than puke. I couldn’t IMAGINE puking in public. I was also concerned that they would whisk me out of the store, and I would have made a futile trip to Walmart only to return home empty handed.
I pursed my lips together tightly, kept my comments to the kids to a minimum and pursued my list of specific items.
Thinking that I had chosen wisely to go to the check-out line where individuals buy cigarettes, I thought I would have a speedy check out.
The lady was paying in change. $47 dollars worth of change.
Didn’t they notice me swaying . . . and groaning . . . and looking green? The penny lady in front of me was very sweet, overlooking my discomfort but telling me of the 10 children she had borne. 10?
And when it became my turn to pay for my items, the check out lady acted as if she had heard nothing of my ailment and proceeded to ask me how I am? Are you serious? Don’t you see the masking tape on my mouth? I’m going to ralph. It was obvious. I had cut in line and acquired a delightful bag just in case my stomach should work properly at the most untimely moment.
As we entered the bright sunlight to go home, my stomach made another lurch. I just kept repeating . . . Must. Get. Home. Must. Get. Home.
When we arrive at the Loser Cruiser I inform the children about how Mommy needs them to get into the car and buckle THEMSELVES in.
It is at this point, Mr. Smackdown began to take his role as first born VERY seriously.
- He first tried to talk Mr. Me-Too through the steps of inserting the seatbelt into the clicky-thing. Didn’t work.
- Rushed up to the front to deliver a snack to me.
- Filled Mr. Smiley’s snack trap and handed the goods over to the baby.
- Raced back to put the seatbelt in it’s proper position for Mr. Me-Too in order to get home quickly. Explained that Mommy wasn’t stealing the cheddar bunnies, only that I was sick and needed to eat.
- When we pulled into the driveway, he commanded me to lay on the couch and they would bring everything in but the baby.
- Covered me with a blanket, and brought me lunch which consisted of cheddar bunnies and this nasty protein bar I made yesterday.
- Fed his brothers, never once stopping to eat because he wanted to make sure that we were all OK.
- He got a little miffed at me when I told him it was time to go upstairs for rest time . . . who would take care of me?
There have been times I have wondered if all of our training has been for not . . . until today. I saw my little boy rise to the occasion and use the gifts that God instilled in his heart to help and serve his family. And he did it with joy (and with a little hope that he might earn some money.) But it really blessed me. Kind of makes me want to pretend to be sick more often.
Thanks, Mr. Smackdown.