"Chickens are remarkably resilient and can recover amazingly well from significant illness and trauma. Warmth, easy access to food and water and quiet are the most important things to provide to a sick or injured bird....At first sign of injury or illness, confine him/her in a hospital kennel. A medium sized dog crate is perfect for most chickens." --from CARING FOR A SICK OR INJURED CHICKEN, Mary Britton Clouse, Founder Chicken Run Rescue
*****"MOM! You have to come up here. There is vomit in our room!" Madeline exclaimed in a way that sounded more like a child who had just found candy from the Easter Bunny than one who was marveling over puke. Really, you'd have thought she had just found a cute little puppy in her bed.
"Yeah, and we don't know who did it," Lily added, sincerely. My wheels started turning. Vomit and no idea who did it? Sounded a little fishy to me. But I was in the middle of something and didn't go running up just yet.
Lily came down to get me and again said, "Mom, there is vomit in our room and Madeline and I didn't do it."
"That's strange," I admitted, heading upstairs to check it out, thinking maybe the cat had been up there to leave a small token of appreciation.
"Maybe Leroy did it. I think I heard him last night while I was sleeping," Madeline suggested, apparently able to read minds now. The things they teach in schools these days!
I got to their room and I am pretty sure that if I were a texter or a tweeter or user of any other anti-full-English (or pro-chatspeak) technology I would have said something like OMG, WTH?! Because unless our cat had suddenly morphed into an overgrown cow with four extra large chambers in his stomach and perfected a vomitus version of the bunny hop leading from the beds and on out the door, it was not the cat.
"Ew, did you guys step in this?" I asked, quickly assessing the situation.
"No!" they both squealed. There were clearly matted footprints in at least two of the piles. I hopped on down the vomit trail, hippity, hoppity, to the edge of Lily's bed. Dried up chunks of grossness covered her sheets, stuffed animals, pillows....I'd have thrown a tweet bomb in the room if that meant someone else would've come to clean it up, which I presume it doesn't.
"Lily, did you throw up last night?" I stupidly asked, a little more overwhelmed now, and wondering why kids can't seem to hold still and throw up in ONE spot when they are sick rather than painting a large portion of the house with it. And seriously, how did I not HEAR this disco party that took place in the middle of the night?
"No, I didn't do it. I think Leroy did it," she answered with all the honesty she could muster. I look at her more closely. Her pants are missing, her night shirt is splattered with dried up puke and she stinks, I mean, really stinks. Like a frat house the morning after....although, that is only a hunch as I have never stepped foot in one, unless you count that time I went inside the "Animal House" frat house at Dartmouth during Kurt's Business School tour....but that hardly counts....
I got down at her level: "Um Lily, you have vomit in your hair. I think you got sick last night and somehow slept through it...." (Actually, from the looks of the crime scene, she must have
And this is where the true colors of our family come out. You see, it was Sunday morning and the fact that she had thrown up, even though she didn't remember doing it and seemed to be just fine now, meant that she would have to stay home from church. Thems the rules! "Warmth, easy access to food and water, and quiet" only happens at home with the majority of us gone. So I went down to tell Kurt he would have to skip church to stay home with Lily (he was crushed, really) and, as luck would have it, Aidan overheard.
"That's no fair! How come Lily gets to be sick and stay home from church? I wish I were throwing up. I wish I were sick and got to stay home. Lily always gets to be sick. It's not fair!" And on and on he went about the injustice of it all."It's sometimes fun to throw up. She's so lucky," he said.
If you ever need someone to spin your personal reality into some opposing, mixed-up paradigm, Aidan's your guy. I'm surprised he hasn't been recruited by some political news source yet and he's darn lucky I refrained from forcing him to experience a mom-induced collision with Syrup of Ipecac.
Meanwhile, in Nevereverland, Madeline was whispering sweet nothings to Lily about how much fun she would have staying home with daddy, being somewhat experienced in the matter herself:
"And Lily, you have to ask if you can watch something first and he will let you watch a show. You're going to have such a good time. And then...."
"No Fair! I WANT TO PUKE, TOO!"
And while Madeline was talking in flowery fairy tale language (think: All your dreams have come true, Lily! La-ti-da-ti-da), and Aidan was complaining about his poor fate (She doesn't even look sick! Why can't I stay home?), I was barely making a dent in the Vomit Fairy's surprise, leaving me with all sorts of non-maternal thoughts:
"Ok, apparently selling sick chickens is frowned upon, so, kennel up, Lily!" (And watch it Aidan; I'm thinking I could get a pretty penny in the free market for the healthy likes of you!)
Post a Comment
Thank you for leaving your comments and feedback! I am humbled by your presence in this place.