The Inverse Law of Bathrooms & Nighttime Vomiting


My husband is downstairs watching Band of Brothers, Season 25, Episode 36,000,000 of men shooting and shouting at one another, blankets tossed aside as his fever breaks finally from the flu that snuck up on him this morning.  I don’t find this at all relaxing, the profanity and underlying violence of the voices making me flinch as I check his temperature, but perhaps we are both just punchier than usual from lack of sleep. Last night, in the midst of a dream about penguins finding their way home, the sound of 4 sharp bangs dragged me from visions of Antarctica.

“What was that noise?” I whispered to my husband, immediately awake and frightened.

“What, what? What noise?”

Four more bangs in quick succession followed.

“That noise!” I said urgently, nearly pushing him out of bed.  He stumbled out into the hallway, coming back within a few seconds, as I was putting on my robe.  In the darkness, I am less blind than usual, knowing the layout of my own bedroom, but somehow I missed my middle daughter making her way towards our bathroom. She had been the one banging on her own door to signal the end of her vomiting in her doorway and her need for assistance, as her own bathroom was missing not only the toilet, but a working sink as we are in the midst of removing the 80’s funk which permeates our entire bought-in-a-foreclosure home.

I was not great at physics though I was blessed with great teachers and professors.  Physics is a fun science full of demonstrations, and on tests and homework, I had little difficulty, completing calculations and solving equations so long as I stuck to rote memorization.  In real life, however, during physics lab when those principles had to be played out in real time with gravity at work, I usually failed miserably at predicting how the world actually works.

Last night, however, a real-world situation presented itself and I immediately was able to write a new axiom, and though it is based on a single observational study, I offer it up as a truth that I would recommend to anyone as worthy of remembering.  I am calling it The Inverse Law of Bathrooms and Nighttime Vomiting also known as the ILBNV (pretty catchy, right?).

The person farthest from the closest working bathroom will be the most likely to have an episode of nighttime vomiting, and also most likely to expel the entire contents of their dinner the farthest distance in the shortest amount of time.  

Splitting duties, I took care of cleaning up the daughter, who apparently upon evacuating the contents of her stomach immediately felt better.  My husband, bless his heart, cleaned up much of the mess, electing at 3 am to finish the rest in the morning.  I describe my 2 youngest children as one who never stops talking, and one who never stops moving. Having realized quickly that ILBNV was now in play, I moved her downstairs to be nearer to the bathroom.  Once she was tucked in, and after climbing into bed with her, however, she could not wait to begin describing to me in great detail exactly how terrible vomiting feels, smells and sounds.  By the time she finally fell asleep, I was lying in bed wondering if the twinges in my stomach were my imagination prompted by her vivid descriptions, or actually the beginnings of an exception to the ILBNV.  Thankfully, the axiom held true, and I awoke at 6:30 am to find my husband groping his way one-eyed towards the coffee-maker.

On days like this with just a few hours of sleep, knowing I’m facing getting the kids off to school on time, followed by a full load of patients, then Girl Scouts and piano lessons, then dinner, homework, bedtime and clean-up, I try to remind myself that I once couldn’t wait to be a grown-up. Most of the time, it works, and I’m grateful to be living the dream as they say. Having now penned the ILBNV and with my place in physics history now secure, I’m thinking about quitting my day job, once I find where I put those bonbons I’ve been hoarding.  I’ll look for them just as soon as I finish cleaning up the rest of the mess from last night, as the husband is now in no shape to be scrubbing carpets or walls. It’s a glamorous life, but someone has to do it.

This somewhat flattened York peppermint patty found at the bottom of my travel bag is the closest thing to a bonbon I could find. Luckily, it was still delicious.

This somewhat flattened York peppermint patty found at the bottom of my travel bag is the closest thing to a bonbon I could find. Luckily, it was still delicious.

Today I am grateful for stomach bugs that last only 24 hours, a good sense of humor, and bonbons in all forms!

 

 

 

 

Oenomel


Today I awoke to a symphony of birds outside my window. I’d fallen asleep with the door to my balcony open as it had been uncomfortably warm when I finally got home from the sloping streets of Santa Fe, and though I’d hoped to sleep in, I highly recommend this over the blaring siren call of an alarm clock. Yesterday felt like spring, a day for wearing shorts and strolling to nowhere particular. If you are anything like me, you’re saying, “I can’t believe it’s May already!” My good friends with green thumbs were bemoaning the hail, sleet, snow and rain we got on May 1: “But it’s May Day!” which led me to think of the real meaning of the phrase Mayday. A derivation of the French “Aidez-moi!” which means “help me!”, this international sign of distress was born in 1927, based on an Italian guy’s take on M’aider. This is improper French (take it from someone with entirely too little French retained in my head for the number of French classes in high school and college I’ve taken). To distinguish it from a casual mention in radio chatter of May Day (for which there are any number of celebrations, pagan and Christian) it must be repeated 3 times to be considered a valid distress call. This brings to mind scenes from all kinds of stories in which an incantation or phrase must be said 3 times in order for magic to occur.

Because I love words so much, I have daily deliverings of words of the day and daily prompts regarding words, most of which I read and tuck away in some obscure fold in my brain, but sometimes the confluence of the words makes it feel like there is some greater theme or scheme not obvious to the oblivious like me that demands to be written about. Today’s word of the day is oenomel, which means “something combining strength and sweetness.” The daily prompt when I began writing this post was the word Hope. In my strangely wired brain, a cry of mayday is a signal of hope.  It means we believe that our cry for deliverance from that which threatens us will be answered.  To ask for help is to believe in some small way that someone or something will save us.  Said 3 times, it is an incantation of hope, a belief in a stronger power to come to our aid in times of distress.  And, today, of all days, a day to celebrate mothers and motherhood seemed an appropriate day to celebrate hope.  If you have been blessed as I have been with a mother who has always been able to offer hope and strength in equal measure during times most dire and full of confusion, or with other strong women who stood in a mother’s stead to be present for you, count yourself among those who have always known hope, always known that any maydays would not need to be said 3 times, as the magic of the cry for mother needs only be said once.

Today I wish for you a day filled with birdsong and brightness, a day made for strolling with those you love, and a life in which you can be for others, an oenomel. I am thankful for my mother and all the strong women I’ve been surrounded by. I pray to honor their example.  Happy Mother’s Day to all mothers by every definition of the word, everywhere, from your local dragon mama!