By Danielle Sherman-Lazar of Living a Full Life After ED
So we decided to perform a cyber exorcism. Yes, it actually exists.
We called the priest and everything. We needed to get rid of this horrible stomach demon wreaking havoc on my 11-month-old baby girl. She had been throwing up for days. It was time.
We are Jewish, so this was complete desperation. We needed some holy water ASAP. Okay, kidding, but give me a few more days and maybe I will. I actually looked it up in a moment of hysteria. Non-believers, search Google right now.
It all started on Sunday morning, the one day I can sleep in, when I heard my hubby screaming “fuck” so loudly that it echoed, echoed, echoed. You get the point.
I ran out of bed, pajamas hiked up to my stomach, hair resembling Animal The Muppet, and came in to the living room to find throw-up covering both of them—head to toe. NOOOO, I screamed in slow motion, wishing I could use my mommy super powers to go back to five minutes ago, to cover them both with bibs and towels. But then I realized, shit; moms don’t really have super powers–that’s a myth–and was left screwed with a messy baby in hand while my husband went to change. What a pleasant way to be awoken. And before I even had a sip of coffee. How inconsiderate of them. Right?
“I think I had her at a weird angle and she choked on her formula,” he claimed from the other room mid-shirt swap.
“I hope so,” I screamed back as I disinfected my little girl, changing her into clean clothes and washing her with a washcloth.
“Since she’s okay, I am going to go back to sleep for like twenty minutes,” I said to him, handing off the clean nugget and yawning simultaneously.
Well, ten minutes later–same situation happened, this time with a waffle, in the highchair, in the kitchen. How very Clue the Board Game of me. But it was official. My baby girl had her first stomach bug.
And half a week later, I had never cleaned up more throw-up, made more baths, and said oh shit so many times. Oh shit, because every time she would puke, that was my instinctual reaction.
So finally, after days of throw-up, days stuck inside, a doctor visit, and horrible poop diapers–not the royal Sir Patrick Stewart kind–I lost my own shit.
I swear her poop was even talking to me, but it had more of an evil chipmunk voice than a calm British one like its Pooh counterpart.
“I will get myself all up your baby’s back, mwahahaha, so you will need to bathe her,” the voice said, high-pitched and evil AF. And it did.
“I will make your baby’s tushie nice, raw, and red so she can be extra upset.” And wa-la! It did.
I am telling you. Her poop was evil. It needed to be offed. If you had a thing like that hurting the love of your life, you would look into cyber exorcisms, too.
Plus, my daughter, who is the Queen Of Rolls–girl has rolls in all area codes (Thanks, Ludacris, for that one)–was starting to actually look kind of slim. It freaked me out.
Moral of the story and in the name of my daughter’s adorable scrumptious rolls, who is with me on a flu season exorcism? I think we can all get rid of this demon. Bring it to The Upside Down, with the Demogorgon, where it truly belongs. I will not rest again until I hear that the Demorgogon is throwing its guts up with no chicken soup in sight. That’s my pledge. We got this, mamas.
Dani Sherman-Lazar is four years in recovery from anorexia and bulimia, Vice President of a transportation company, and a mother to a one year old. Hobbies (when she has a minute to breathe!) include reading, writing or blogging, anything on Bravo (she is not afraid to admit her reality-tv/Real Housewives of Anywhere addiction) and the occasional workout. She has been published on Bluntmoms, The Mighty, Project Heal, Beating Eating Disorders, Sammiches and Psych Meds, Kveller.com and Humorwriters.org. Follow her on her blog Living a Full Life After ED and like it on Facebook.
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