Over the long holiday weekend, we attended the wedding of our friends Garth and Sara. Not only did their incredibly beautiful and joyous wedding allow children, they seemed to make all their choices based on what Elijah and Luca would enjoy.
Set in a sprawling apple orchard, the boys danced to bluegrass music in an old barn loft. They chased tiny toads that were clearly shipped in for the purpose. And They drank unlimited pink lemonade and ate platefuls of four different kinds of BBQ meat.
By the end of the night, Luca’s face was bright red from a combination of sauce and chasing the other young guests who may or may not have been child actors hired to ensure he had a great time.
We all collapsed into our room and the nightly debate about who slept with who began. Diana reminded the boys that she would like to sleep in the same bed as her husband sometime in the year 2015. Eli told her flatly that wasn’t going to happen.
Luca loudly claimed me as his bedmate. And I’ll admit, I secretly liked being picked first. I know I’ll never knock Diana off her position as number one in their hearts, but a dark little part of me relishes those little victories.
About two hours later, I awoke to Luca in the middle of a coughing fit and he cried out a bit. I then felt the telltale splash of a barf. I sprang up and saw Luca had slumped back into his pillow and there was a stinky puddle between us. It wasn’t a huge puddle, but it was barf. In hindsight, unlimited pink lemonade and meat may not have been a good combination.
For far longer than a normal human being should, I debated just going back to sleep and pretending it never happened. I could just lie very still and not roll over…
In answer to that hideous train of thought, Luca bolted upright and heaved all over my side of the bed again. I leapt up and swiped at Diana, sleeping soundly in the other bed, and shouted, “Barf! Barf! Luca barf!”
Rather than have a philosophical debate about the merits of sleeping in your child’s vomit, Diana sprang into action. She placed a garbage can under Luca and mopped up all the bed goo, ordered new towels from the front desk and comforted the boy in one motion.
Everyone calmed down and Luca slept the sleep of someone who would soon vomit again. I looked at Diana and Eli’s bed. For two small people, they managed to occupy every inch. I debated shoving my way in, but I worried that Luca may need more help in the middle of the night. Help I would immediately delegate to Diana.
I decided to find some real estate on the bed that wasn’t wet or used by the sick kid. I found a small patch at the bottom. If I lay across the width, I could just about manage. Plus, I could envision what Shaquille O’Neal feels like when he has to sleep in a regular person’s bed.
I was doing my best Shaq impersonation to myself when Luca sat up in bed and heaved all over again.
The next morning, we drove along the Ohio countryside to the cabin Diana rented for the rest of the weekend. I really should’ve showered before we left, but I was too tired and used my stink as a kind of punishment to everyone.
Luca begged me to stop at McDonald’s and I suggested we switch up sleeping arrangements that night.