Every Super Hero has a kryptonite...

Perhaps this post will reveal how twisted my sense of humor is. Or maybe it's just my way of dealing with really disgusting situations....WARNING! This blog entry is not for the squeamish.

A very common theme of this blog is superheroes. I think this is, in large part, due to the fact that I am surrounded by them at all sides. My husband, kids, siblings, family, my amazing friends, each of them ought to have a superhero name. That will come in another blog.

He-Man, the eradicator of eight-legged freaks, cracker of backs and healer of gaping wounds has a kryptonite. Shocking, I know. But he does. (We must be careful with dispelling this information because certain nemeses can use this to their advantage.) His kryptonite is one of the most toxic substances on the earth and we were faced with a heaping dose of it beginning on Sunday evening. This knee buckling, head spinning substance is none other than vomit.

He-Man and I had just put our kids to bed. They had all been read to, prayers said and hugs with kisses dispensed. We were enjoying the fresh evening air outside and preparing for our Gospel study when we heard thunderous foot steps coming towards us. Sunshine, in a panic proclaimed, "Button Nose is screaming her head off and she is covered in throw up!" "Uh, oh!" I thought, looking over at my now almost green husband. Obviously this was going to take a haz-mat team, not just a casual street sweeper.

Up the stairs we went, readying ourselves for the battle. Half way down the hall the unforgettable odor wafted through the air. In deed, Button Nose was covered from head to toe and a look of complete and utter frustration was on her face. Choking down the dry heaves, He-Man hosed her down in the de-con chamber while I did damage control in the bedroom. Bunny and Sunshine served as observant bystanders pointing out those things we were missing, "Uh, Momma, there is a huge chunk on her cheek." and "Oh, you're are going to want to wash that."

Once everything settled down, we lined beds with towels and each child was bestowed a special token for the evening: a 'throw-up bowl'. Button Nose, just getting started decided this was no time for sleeping and found her spot on her daddy's lap. He too, held a 'throw-up bowl'. I couldn't be sure if it was for Button or for him. We may never know.

The incidences subsided and just when I thought we were safe I had been gone for a meeting and returned. The first thing I saw when I walked through the door was my shirtless husband wearing jeans sitting on our couch with a diapered miserable looking baby and a 'throw-up' bowl. He looked positively ill. Immediately I knew, he wasn't sitting shirtless on our couch to look sexy.

What a guy! Even facing his weakness he will comfort a little one who only wants him to hold her. Superman lifted an entire kryptonite mountain but that is nothing compared to the feat of strength He-Man accomplished. Who knew my husband was such a pillar of gastrointestinal strength?

And so it goes. It's quite humorous really. However, I am left pondering a few issues of interest.

1. Just how much vomit can come out of a baby?

2. Who, on earth, invented shag carpet?! Obviously, they didn't have kids. I really, really pity the person who will be ripping that up from our floors someday.