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Vomitorium Update - RR's Wee Children (Finally) Ceased Puking, Thanks for Asking

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  • #21
    Yup Ditto

    Originally posted by Sabovee View Post
    Yup. That seals it. Definately not having children. I am not cool with all the vomitting.

    Hope hubbys head heals up well!
    GREAT post RR!
    You should write a book!
    I made that decision a long time ago! RR your one tough cookie! Hope everyone is done Gakking and bleeding, and that peace has fallen on your household! Well at least for now!

    Comment

    • Original Poster

      #22
      It has been a much quieter morning around here than yesterday. Whew.

      The horse and ponies are settling in together, Mr. RR can hide the stiches with his hair, the children are not vomiting and I am drinking coffee.

      Life is good.
      Chronicles of the $700 Pony
      The Further Adventures of the $700 Pony
      www.blithetraveler.com <-- My Blog

      Comment


      • #23
        You have so earned coffee and a quiet moment. I would rather mop up a gallon of blood than deal with vomit. Ewwwww.

        So now tell us about your outing. ????? My great accomplishment Saturday was teaching my horse that when I ask him to go up the path to the arena, the only correct answer is 'Yes, ma'am.' Your day can't have been more remedial than that.
        I tolerate all kinds of animal idiosyncrasies.
        I've found that I don't tolerate people idiosyncrasies as well. - Casey09

        Comment


        • #24

          OMG!! I feel so much better about my day
          Thank goodness my sick "wee child" is 13 now. They know how to handle themselves during vomit epsodes by the time they get to be that age. She is her father's child however, and requires lots of attention and sympathy.

          The image of the weest hurling on her father had me in ROFLMAO. If that had happened at my house, my hubby would have promptly "returned vomit" Fortunately, my man knows his limitations and allows noone with any type of germ to come near him (I'm sure you can imagine how helpful that makes him with sick children)....

          So what do you think? Was Mr RR feeling a bit neglected? Did he decide to drop a haywagon on his head to get some of his wife's attention? Was he feeling the need to compete with the $700 Pony and the wee child, or was this really an accident?
          Y'all ain't right!

          Comment


          • #25
            Originally posted by Reynard Ridge View Post
            .......when I heard the kitchen door open, and then the words ever wife dreads to hear, "Hon, could you come here for a minute?" And there stood Mr. RR, one hand on his head. Or, at least I think it was one hand -- kind of hard to tell through all the blood.

            Long story short, the ATV was not the appropriate vehicle to bring the haywagon down the hill.

            Being good in a crisis, I grabbed some absorbant towels and quick replaced his non-absorbant hand with the absorbant towels - then ran for the first aid kit. I got him settled on the couch, with the two wee children watching wide eyed, as I scrubbed up at the sink, prepped the scrub water and prepared to scrub his head to assess the damage.

            Mr. RR looked pretty pale through all of this. There are several incidents in his history that involve what might be described as less than stellar performance at the sight of blood - mostly related to childbirth, so I was quietly talking him through the whole thing, trying to keep the blood from dripping into his eyes and possibly resulting in his losing consciousness.

            All the while keeping the wee children entertained by relating the scrubbing out of daddy's wound with the scrubbing out of the $700 Pony's knee the previous weekend. They were lucky enough to not only witness Mommys scrubbing the knee, but there were also there for the vet's sewing the wound up, so the wee one's have had quite the eductation.

            Anyway, at some point during all of this, wee one the Younger crawled into Daddy's lap and promptly threw up on him. Trying to maintain some kind of sterile environment was just getting really hard.

            When I finally got down to the actual wound, the conversation went something like this:

            ME: "Hmmmm. Interesting."
            Mr. RR: "What, what? What's it look like?"
            ME: "Looks like you dropped a haywagon on your head."
            Mr. RR: "Ha. Ha. Do I need stitches?"
            ME: "Well, I'm not doctor..."
            Mr. RR: "You got it on the money with that Pony last weekend."
            ME: "Seven"

            And, indeed, seven it was.

            We dragged the vomiting child as well as the not-yet-but-surely-soon-to-be vomiting child to the local ER and seven stitches and about an hour later, Mr. RR took the tractor out to untangle the ATV and the haywagon. It was a little anticlimactic for the wee ones, though, as they were hugely disappointed that they couldn't watch the doctor stitch up daddy.

            Update next week when I take the stitches out for him.
            taking out stitches -- good for you -- soon you'll be putting them in yourself too
            Nothing says "I love you" like a tractor. (Clydejumper)

            The reports states, “Elizabeth reported that she accidently put down this pony, ........, at the show.”

            Comment


            • #26
              RR, I love your stories, but they always make me really happy to go home to my two cats in a quiet apartment.
              "A canter is a cure for every evil." -Benjamin Disraeli

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              • #27
                I like looking at the pictures of RR's adorable Wee Ones. I laugh when I read about them hurling vomit. But I am so, so glad I wasn't a direct target!
                www.specialhorses.org
                a 501(c)3 organization helping 501(c)3 equine rescues

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                • #28
                  What I admire most about YOU is your sense of humor and your seemingly endless amount of patience. May I have some of that?
                  ~Amy~ TrakehNERD clique
                  *Bugs 5/86-3/10 OTTB Mare* RIP lovely Lady, I miss you
                  *Frodo '03 Anglo Trakehner Gelding*
                  My Facebook

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                  • #29
                    Oh RR!!!
                    I was grumbling at my desk about stoopid insurance companies who place you on endless Hold (Your call is important to us...) when I read your post.
                    Maybe dealing with Managed Care Twits is not so bad after all....

                    My sympathies, for you most obviously have had the Morning From Hell
                    Hope all works out at Casa de RR
                    Children not sick
                    Horses melding into a herd
                    Husband healing (and using farm equipment appropriately)
                    *friend of bar.ka*RIP all my lovely boys, gone too soon:
                    Steppin' Out 1988-2004
                    Hey Vern! 1982-2009, Cash's Bay Threat 1994-2009
                    Sam(Jaybee Altair) 1994-2015

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                    • #30
                      Our little lost child #2 should go to the olympics for vomiting for distance. I smelled like sour milk the first 2 years of his life. We would go through 3 to 6 blankets a day from the little hurler. I am amazed that he ever grew as much as he hurled back up. Just this weekend we were at a nice (well as nice as you will take 4 kids to) mexican resturant. Lost #2 got up halfway through dinner went to the restroom, tossed his cookies, and returned to finish his meal. LF
                      Lostfarming in Idaho
                      http://i512.photobucket.com/albums/t...etPleasure.jpg

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                      • #31
                        I live a long way from the nearest medical clinic / ED what ever you want to call it. Recently was kicked and ended up with stitches (a story in itself). Decided that the wound had healed enough after 10 days and that I should take the stitches out. It is MUCH easier to take your own stitches out than those in a horse, dog or cat! You don't wriggle, scratch, kick, stamp, pull back or whine pitifully. And it doesn't hurt at all! I have an ugly scar, but that was going to happen anyway.

                        I'm sure that Mr RR will cope with you taking his stitches out.

                        Comment


                        • #32
                          I have found that I can take stitches out of just about anything - but putting them in is another matter all together
                          I have no problem assisting, and I could probably put them in, if the patient is not one of my own. I have discovered (at a very inconvenient moment ) that I get a bit woozy if I'm forced to assist when it's my own beastie or child that is being stitched
                          Y'all ain't right!

                          Comment


                          • #33
                            What *I* like is the purple glue that was used on my finger the last time I went trailing blood to the emergency room. I washaving a LOT of trouble with a stalker so wanted to change my appearanc ein a hury. Couldn't find scissoes, so it was a razor blade that chopped my hair off.

                            Comment

                            • Original Poster

                              #34
                              UPDATE:

                              Let me begin with an Ancient Pacific Rim Proverb: “She who smugly drinks coffee has not, in fact, dodged the bullet.”

                              Mr. RR was working from home yesterday, what with the seven stitches and the semi-sick children and all. I have to admit, I was a tiny bit smug thinking that while the children were a little lethargic, that if the Elder did not begin oozing from random orifices by mid-morning that we were probably out of the woods. We could chalk the wee-est ones intestinal distress up to a bad bit of shelfish and move on.

                              Wrong, wrong, wrong. Mr. RR headed out to run some errands, hair judiciously parted. And all heck broke loose. By the time he returned, well, I’ll spare you the details because it is just to disgusting for words. Each child had been undressed, redress, undressed and redressed and each bed had been stripped of every pillow and sheet and blanket and the children were both unceremoniously plunked in and out of the tub to rinse off (but not left in to play because heaven forbid there be more leakage actually into the tub) and I was in the kitchen with the largest, foulest smelling load of laundry you can possibly imagine.

                              Mr. RR walked in the door, sniffed, and looked at me with undisguised horror. The look that passed between us was one of an old married couple. We are not actually that old, but we have been down this road before.

                              Dead. Men. Walking.

                              It was only a matter of time, ne c’est pas? How could two tiny children succumb to some horrific stomach flu, cover their parents in bits of, well, whatever, and somehow leave parents unscathed?

                              Our first thought, of course, was for the livestock. Children you can mange by tossing some Goldfish on the floor and allowing them to forage. Both nutritional and occupies their time. Livestock, however, have to be fed and tended for, regardless of how weak your knees might be. Mr. RR headed out to fill up every chicken feeder on the farm, and I made sure the horses got a good meal, the old retiree got his (rather important) meds. And we settled in to wait.

                              We skirted around dinner, having a little soup and drinking Gatorade. Dinner conversation was scarce:

                              ME: “How do you feel?”
                              Mr. RR: “Okay.’
                              ME: “Just okay?”
                              Mr. RR “Yeah, just okay.”
                              ME: “What do you mean by just okay?”
                              Mr. RR: “I mean, just okay. Not great. Just okay.”

                              Repeat ad nauseum. As it were.

                              I gave the children sippy cups of Gatorade to drink as a desperate attempt to keep them hydrated. I made the unfortunate mistake of giving them Cherry, so when Mr. RR went up to change the bed sheets on the Elder, he almost passed out, mistaking the returned Cherry Gatorade for a rather large pool of blood. Ah, well, live and learn.

                              I set the children up with buckets next to their beds, and then stoically went about putting garbage bags in every waste bin in the house and lining them up in our bathroom. Note singular. We only have one, of course.

                              Mr. RR gave me a brief pep talk before we drifted off into a restless sleep, “Now, if we can just manage it so that we can hurl in shifts, everything will be okay. It just gets tricky if we need to go together.” Then we took bets on how long, or short, we would be sleeping. We do try to keep our spirits up around here.

                              The night went about as you would image. It was horrific, and when we awoke in the morning, all four of us were wasted little humans, despite the ingestion of volumes of Gatorade. We did get the children down stairs and fed them something, whereupon we all crawled back upstairs and went back to bed.

                              The chickens were fine, of course, but the one thing on my mind was getting out to make sure our small herd of horses had survived the night intact. They are a new bunch together and as mentioned in the original post, the $700 Pony is making life rather miserable for everyone else. The Pony and Mr. Retiree are out in a huge field, and they distain the hay I leave them anyway, so I knew they would be fine forage wise But Mr. Retiree gets thyroid meds, and Coco, the Wee Spotted Pony is on a diet, and so is in a paddock that does not provide forage and so he must have regular hay.

                              And so, gathering my strength, I headed out into the cold rain. It is raining today, did I mention that? They were all happy to see me, but I have to say they psychological dynamics of this group right now are not good. The Pony is a loner and has huge distain for Mr. Retiree and Coco, the Wee Spotted Pony. Mr. Retiree thinks the Pony is the cat’s meow and cannot be out of sight of her. Coco is just lonely, because until the grass dies, he is stuck in the paddock.

                              So, Coco goes in the barn to eat his meager rations, the Pony goes into Coco’s paddock and while I have been trying to feed Mr. Retiree in his shed, he will have none of it, because in the shed he cannot see the Pony. So the way it has been working is they each stand about 10 feet from the gate (on either side of it), they each get a tub on the ground, Mr. Retiree makes love sick noises at the Pony and offers to share his feed over the fence while the nasty Pony pins her ears and threatens him. Unfortunately, all of this posturing really drags out breakfast. And did I mention that it was raining? And cold?

                              And if you are thinking, “Hey, girlfriend, just LEAVE! Go back to bed! Leave them where they are! They will be fine!” History would suggest they will not be. The Pony just lept out of the very self same paddock a week ago, if I left the retiree in the paddock, he would run and fret. And heaven forbid, if I but them in the same space and left, well, I think the Pony would be getting Mr. Retiree’s thyroid meds.

                              And so I stood there until the fussy equines had made their final faces over the fence and gulped their final bit of feed. I think it took about 14 hours. And I have to confess that maybe just one or two of those little cold rain drops running down my cheeks were maybe not really raindrops after all.

                              The good news, I supposed, is that while I physically felt like crap by the time I got back to the house, I did feel rather good about Doing The Right Thing. I supposed I could have just let it all go one morning, but that doesn’t seem very responsible, does it? Ah, well, tomorrow is another day. And surely it will be a little brighter than this one!
                              Chronicles of the $700 Pony
                              The Further Adventures of the $700 Pony
                              www.blithetraveler.com <-- My Blog

                              Comment


                              • #35
                                At least neither the equines nor chickens 1) vomit, or 2) cause nasty laundry thereby. I'm just sayin'. Hang in there, and don't forget to get rid of all your toothbrushes and run the dishwasher very hot until the humans stop being ill.
                                I tolerate all kinds of animal idiosyncrasies.
                                I've found that I don't tolerate people idiosyncrasies as well. - Casey09

                                Comment


                                • #36
                                  Oh, you poor girl... I'd offer to come help (outside, in the fresh air, far, far away from human contact and while wearing rubber gloves and a respirator)but I'm the odd thousand miles too far away to be much good.

                                  And while horses may not vomit, My household is currently living proof that they do indeed get a version of the stomach flu which can make for some very horrific laundry indeed...

                                  Comment


                                  • #37
                                    Oh, RR, I sympathize. I do. Here's wishing your whole family well very quickly.

                                    Comment


                                    • #38
                                      Bless your heart

                                      Oh RR, I'm soooooo sorry you guys have tummy crud up there!

                                      I'm awefully thankful that it hasn't affected your ability to tell a good story though. I have been sitting here laughing out loud in my little cave of an office
                                      Y'all ain't right!

                                      Comment


                                      • #39
                                        {{{hugs}}} - oh wait - no - then I'd be touching germ-ridden.......... sgray waves sympathetically
                                        Nothing says "I love you" like a tractor. (Clydejumper)

                                        The reports states, “Elizabeth reported that she accidently put down this pony, ........, at the show.”

                                        Comment


                                        • #40
                                          here's something to be thankful for: you have the flu and are upright. Earlier this year I got the stomach flu from hell and had to be peeled off the floor from a mess of my own disgustingness by two EMTs, since my oh so observant roommate noticed that I'd gone to the bathroom two hours before and not returned. Apparently she found me there lying in something foul and not all that responsive to things like audible stimuli (EWWW WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!?). So, having the presence of mind to notice that this might not be, you know, normal behavior, she called 911. I made it out alive, but it was a pretty miserable week in the hospital and I'm pretty sure one of the EMTs who carried me out was cute. I'm also pretty sure I threw up on him.

                                          My parents got pretty lucky when I was a kid...I wasn't a very sick kid and unfortunately that unstilled a massive fear of vomiting in me. I threw up once in third grade and still remember it.

                                          and to make this HR, well, I don't know, but I think the ancient retiree might grow on said pony. Those sedating influences and all that.

                                          Odd suggestion, but if you've got some extra shavings (not the bagged kind, the fine kind you'd get at a sawmill) throw some in those trash bags you've got lining every surface of your home. it makes cleanup a lot easier and your trash guy a lot happier.
                                          Originally posted by PeanutButterPony
                                          you can shackle your pony to a lawn chair at the show...so long as its in a conservative color.

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