The Vomiteer (or, Gag me with a spoon/chicken piccata)

This is probably going to sound inappropriate. SORRY. For those of you with rainbow lives and children…just ignore this post. For the rest of you, well, buckle up, and enjoy the ride.

My autistic son has a notorious gag reflex. It is so terrible, that we had his tonsils removed when he was around six years old (they were so enlarged they were very nearly touching each other) in an attempt to stop his near daily gag and then vomit. Spoiler alert–it didn’t work. In fact, I would consider this one of medicine’s greatest failures. BY FAR.

My son has vomited in public, well, pretty much every place imaginable. Cruise ship fancy ass dinners with the white table cloths…check. Restaurants…check. The entrance to the airport in Mexico, where I was certain we would be shot or at least arrested…check. I mean, the Mexico thing–that happened literally in the freaking doorway–where everybody had to walk thru his vomit to enter or exit…AWESOME.

One time he vomited at the local pancake restaurant at the local fancy town….and the people at the next table were so offended they actually got up and moved to another table! Snobs. Like they have never vomited. As if. Whatever.

Tonight my son started to gag at dinner, as he is coming down with the cold my youngest son has been spewing forth over all of this week (would it kill him to actually cover his mouth when he coughs instead of putting his elbow over his forehead?? would it?? asked the former nurse…) Ok, so my son began to gag…I was sitting next to him, and well things went into slow motion…NOOOOO!!!!! I yelled….NO VOMITING AT THE DINNER TABLE!!!!!  My son, all six feet one plus inch of him shoved his chair back, while I simultaneously pushed back mine, to get out of the range of his projectile spew…which I could see was coming…He wretched, onto the table, his plate, and onto the floor…my two dogs, hovering under the table for fallen scraps, fell over each other in a frenzy for the now vomited chicken piccata…I guess it was still a feast in dog terms…

I grabbed my son and dragged him into the kitchen and attempted clean up on him while my husband cleaned up the mess in the dining room…my son stood naked and I hoped the neighbors couldn’t see the naked man/boy in my kitchen and wouldn’t call the cops…my son, now hungry again, reached over me and began picking food off his plate that I had carried into the kitchen…NOOOOOO!!!! I shouted…it has some vomit on it…I will get you a new plate baby, don’t eat that…and then I remembered…

A few years ago, on Father’s Day..I was working so my husband took his father (and I’m just going to say, in my opinion here, probably on the spectrum…) out to dinner with my kids. The kids voted for Red Lobster, which as you know, is well received in the Jewish household. Nevertheless, my husband agreed and off they went. All was going well until my son began his tell-tale gagging. Right there, in the middle of the restaurant. And then, like a vomit machine gun, he fired, vomit, all over the table. It apparently was so awful, they had to clear the area and a crew wearing hazmat suits had to come out and clean it up.

My father in law, nonplussed by the whole ordeal, with a bit of my son’s vomit on his plate, continued to eat…pushing past the vomit…and eating on…

Maybe he was just really hungry. Maybe he had been in the medical profession and it took a lot to phase him.

Maybe that was just really disgusting and my children still talk about grandpa eating vomit food to this day.

I’m so glad I was working.

So, enjoy your vomit free evenings, gentle readers. May the force be with you.

Me…I’m doing laundry. And having a glass of wine.

One thought on “The Vomiteer (or, Gag me with a spoon/chicken piccata)

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