Thursday, February 20, 2014

Post Valentine's Day Pukefest

*Warning:  It's about to get real up in here.  Those with a weak stomach need not read on.*

I'm awoken by a sound that everyone wants to hear first thing in the morning.  Is it chirping birds?  My husband saying he loves me?  The gentle pitter-patter of rain?  Nope that's my husband blowing chunks into a Walmart sack next to me.  I glance over at my phone.  It's five AM.  Good morning world!

Now, typical Chelsea at five AM would have growled, grumbled, and rolled back over and fallen asleep.  In this case, my mama bear nurturing instincts took over.  I leapt out of bed, ran and got him a bowl and a fresh garbage bag.  Next thing I knew I was tying up Philip's puke-sack and throwing it away.  I proceeded to get a rag and some disinfectant and attacked the area of the incident.  Finally, I sprayed everywhere within a mile of the throw-up with enough Febreeze to suffocate the both of us.

Everyone in my house had taken turns getting sick.  And I mean real sick.  Like can't-stray-too-far-from-the-bathroom sick.  Philip and I thought we had both bypassed the virus.  But alas, it finally got him.  He got the worst of it and I had to take my poor husband to the doctor.  My time was spent holding his hand while he got shots, whispering comforting words in his ear, helping him to mosy around the Dr.'s office.  In fact, my entire day revolved around him.  I waited on him hand-and-foot.  As totally illogical as this is, I felt closer to my husband during these shenanigans than I had on our romantic adventures the day before.

Picture this:  My husband was puking, and moaning in pain, and basically pooping his pants and all I could think about was how much I loved him.  How do you explain that?  I can't, except that perhaps love looks much more like this than the pink and red swirl of chocolates and flowers and fancy dinners of the day before.

I think that love is less about the mushy-gushy googly-eyed stuff, and more about moments like this.  Moments where you get to choose to die to yourself, and put the needs of the one you love first.  Maybe this is true love.  When the other person is at their worst.  When they have nothing to offer you, and in fact they need something from you.  Maybe true love gives.  I couldn't have asked for a better way to celebrate Valentine's Day, than an opportunity to remind myself how much I truly love my husband.  For better or for worse.


Mindy said...

Laughing as in yes, you're exactly right. And puke happens. And puke and poop are not the only things you are going to encounter in married life. As in, you might see/examine things on your husband's body that you never dreamed you would.
But so very good of you. I am a terrible nurse. Terrible.
Do you know what I love? Disinfecting wipes. They may cost more than spray and a rag but they are super fast. Also, my hubs never likes throwing up in a plastic bag- there are splash factors- so you may want to ask Philip about that. Get yourself a plastic ice cream pail (also handy for taking care of the plunger).

Chelsea girl said...

Sometimes all you can do is laugh. Thanks for the advice, Mindy!

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