If It is Wet and It is Not Yours Don't Touch It

Once a year all educators are supposed to watch a bodily fluids training video. We all sit and stare at the same video we watched the year before and the year before that. We know we will get to watch this film for at least 27 years, each year of our public service, until our retirement. I might miss the film after 27 years of viewing and get my own personal copy, probably not.

But, the film can be summed up in with one clever line, "If it is wet and it is not yours, don't touch it." We are given red bags with gloves and bandages. If the students ever came to me bleeding I just pointed to the bag and let them deal with it; I taught middle school. Now, if they threw up, I always called the janitor. I believe fiercely in the quote above.

However, as a mom, "If it is wet and it is not yours, you will touch it."

Tuesday my oldest woke up and vomited. This happened three times. Then when I thought things were calming down, he came racing out to the garden with blood dripping down his face and into his mouth. His younger brother had thrown a toy car at his face. I proceeded to clean him off and follow his bloody trail back into the house. There were red traces on all the door handles and in each room he had raced through to get to me in the garden. I touched it all. No gloves. No kit to tote around. The whole time I smiled remembering that I shouldn't be touching this wet stuff that was not mine.

Snot is something that I touch on a daily basis. Having three kids under the age of four means that snotty noses are a constant. Usually the boys run up to me and then rub their little noses on my upper arms. My oldest has stopped this and now runs to the bathroom to get a tissues, but with allergy season upon us he sometimes sneezes and snot explodes out of his raw little nose and dangles between him and the carpet below.

Over Christmas my husband slept with our oldest when our oldest was severely sick. I think my husband was vomited on at least two times that night. He never got sick. I was totally impressed and knew this was one of the many reasons I married the guy.

Tuesday was a rough day. I got little done. I guess what I got done was taking care of my sick child, but this is hard for the Martha in me. I have lists. I have goals. I want to look back at my day and see that all I created was and is good.

Wednesday came. All was well. The boys were both good. Our oldest was back. They played and were inseparable. I accomplished much.

Today was supposed to be another day of great accomplishment. I need to clean my house, my sister is coming this weekend to work on her scrapbooking. We are heading over to Sun River. I have packing to do and meal planning. Oh, and then there is this little hallway painting project I wanted to finish up, but I think I'm going to have to release all of that.

This morning my middle son barfed right into a toy tub.