The Milestones Just Keep Coming

The milestones, all those firsts, they never stop coming. Each time one occurs, I reflect on those things we’re expected to expect, all those things kids do and all those wonderful things they’ll achieve.

Such proud moments.

I think, yes, most of the Check The Box type milestones conclude around the age of three, or when you stop going to the Maternal and Child Health Nurse because they’ve run out of book to complete.

Yes, yes, tick tick, walking, talking, eating, righty-ho they’re now off to pre-school, someone else can take it from here.

Then you’re agonising over and celebrating those first words that are written, letters and numbers being learnt, and a plethora of My School Years journals and books to record all the things that your offspring do at school.

At some point, for most of us at least, their reading, writing, talking, walking becomes so banal, and our lives become so busy that we start to lose site of the firsts.

Except, maybe, first day of high school, first girlfriend/boyfriend, first driving lesson, and a bunch of other things that are pretty significant and are good indicators that your child is a) growing up, and b) normal.

No one talks about all the other firsts, though.

I experienced a new first this weekend. One that had never occurred to me to expect, because it’s one of those things that we are, for whatever reason, never advised of.

Whether inadvertently overlooked or it is deliberately with held, I have no idea.

The Stupid Hour Vomit had occurred. Not one due to sickness. Well, not the virus sort of sickness, like a gastro or anything like that.

And now one of my kids, which makes it much worse.

No, a friend of one of my kids, who, in the very early hours required a bit of a spew.

It was, indeed, due to excess ingestion of something their body was keen to evict.

Not alcohol, which is the most likely go-to reason for a teenager spewing their guts up over the side of the bunk and onto the mattress on the floor beneath.

No, not alcohol. Nor drugs.

More along the lines, I believe, of Preservative Poisoning. Not surprising given the group had made their way through the seeming equivalent of the entire contents of the junk food aisles of a large, well-stocked supermarket.

Perhaps there is only so much non-food foodstuffs a body can take. Like excess consumption of alcohol, your body just wants to get the non-nutrient toxins out as quickly as possible. Generally, violent vomiting tends to perform this function well, as it is able to assist in the expulsion of copious quantities in a small amount of time.

The only benefit to it all was that I slept through the entire things, the rest of the bodies sleeping around the room had managed to avoid being chucked on, and had done great work in assisting the vomiter to get to a safe place, whilst the vomitees stripped beds, tossed the vomited on bedding into the bathroom, and closed the door behind them so it couldn’t escape.

So that was nice.

Although, it did have me thinking … this is the first time I’ve had a technically not-ill child spew in my house … and I had visions of my own misspent youth (not me, obviously … ah, some … friends and … ah … people I used to know) and wonderig if this was a one off or if there was more of the same I could look forward to.

 

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