Not Sweating That Small Stuff

(Just a warning, this post may be a little yucky for those with a weak stomach).
Yesterday I feel as though two of my New Year's Resolutions were put to the ultimate test: sweating the small stuff and the whole hand sanitizer thing.
If you know me well, you know that my biggest fear and hate are the stomach bug. Several of my girlfriends in Muleshoe sort of teased me about it, because I am EXTREMELY dramatic about it, self admitted. I am not really sure why. I can handle anything else fairly well when it comes to illness. But, if anyone near me even mentions that they may be a little quesy, I pretty much lose all control and bust out my Purell and Lysol (it now comes in a purse-size!) with no regard to their feelings.
If, heaven forbid, I myself come down with the stomach bug, Katie bar the door. I am terrified of it. I don't deal with it well. It is rather embarrasing actually the way I act about it. I once had a seven and a half year streak of not throwing up (and yes, I kept track). Once that was broken, I seem to catch it every year now. I am just waiting on my next "streak." Hopefully it will be a twenty year one. Be gone, nasty Rotovirus!! Why must you exist?
And I now realize that this fear completely falls under the category of "sweating the small stuff." And yesterday I faced it head on. About five in the morning, a little voice comes over the monitor in our bedroom..."I frow up. I frow up. Helloooo. I frow up."
Please let him have had a dream about "frowing up." Please don't let this be the real case.
David and I both jumped out of bed and ran to Benjamin's room to find the inevitable "frow up." All over his bed. And him. I totally felt myself starting to lose it and just wanting to "freak out" as David calls it. But I didn't. We pulled all the bedding off of his bed (darn that oversized comforter that just got cleaned from the last "frow up" in November, it will not fit in my machine!!!). And then we strip the kid down and proceed with the "frow up" routine. After we all settled back in, more of the same. By 11 a.m. it was all over and I realized I handled it pretty well.
You see Benjamin is somewhat of a momma's boy. And I couldn't "freak out" in front of him letting him know how much this whole ordeal upset me. The worst part of it (David actually says it was when I was at my best) was that the subsequent "frow ups" all took place right in my lap. Yes, that's right. I did have my trusty over-sized plastic bowl (which shall never be used for food again) to act as a "catch-all." Everytime he felt sick, he looked so sad and said "I want to sit in your lap, mommy." What was I going to do? There wasn't enough time to rush to the bathroom, so inevitably, the ordeal happened right in my lap, bowl and all!
In the midst of it all, my friend Deborah calls and tells me that their eight-week old has RSV. Talk about putting it all in perspective. She did, however, joke with me a bit about me and my "favorite" time when Benjamin is sick to his stomach. Thanks, Deb.
But, seriously. How could I worry about this six hour illness after hearing what she'll have to go through the next few days, giving breathing treatments to an infant and all?
I am not really sure why I am posting this. Perhaps it is a little journal for myself for when this happens again (although I truly hope it is later rather than sooner). I guess I hope I can handle it this well from here on out. Go me!
Now, are you completely disgusted and wondering why you visit our blog?
I sort of am. Now I must get back to finishing my thorough disinfecting job of every inch of my home. (I didn't say I was completely cured, did I? Besides, it's just good sense to clean after all that. Right?)