“Mommy, Mac is sick,” my two year old informed me, “he needs a spit-up bucket.” We have had a lot of experience with “spit-up buckets”. A few weeks ago, three of the kids came down with stomach bugs and their little sister watched with wide-eyes as they got sick repeatedly, sometimes not quite making it to the bathroom. Ever since then she has a sort of strange fascination with “spit-up buckets”. She was drawn to the plastic bag lined buckets we used for emergencies while the older kids were sick and we had to chase her away from them a few times, lest she catch the germs they were filled with. It was a few days later that she asked for one, complaining, as she often does, that her belly was hurting.
But, this? This was a new one, even for her. This time, she insisted that I prepare a spit-up bucket for her beloved Mac. So using one of her plastic toy cooking pots and a plastic sandwich bag I made a miniature version of the spit-up bucket her siblings had used during their illness. Then, I watched as poor Mac, a slightly shriveled blue balloon with a face drawn on with a sharpie marker, got sick into it, over and over again. Poor Mac continued to suffer even after we gave him a few cups of ginger ale and a lot of snuggling. Eventually my daughter’s limited attention span took over and Mac was tossed aside in favor of playing with her doll house and big sister.
It was about 15 minutes later when poor Mac was discovered, popped in the corner of the kitchen. Apparently his illness was much worse than any of us ever suspected. What could we do? We buried him respectfully in the trash can and have moved on in life as we best we could.
When I first started blogging, I promised myself I would write only meaningful posts that would help others in their faith journey. I was excited to share all about God’s work in my life and my own journey to holiness. But as the years have passed, I have found there are a lot more days like the one with Mac, or like this, than like this. I could certainly not share about them, after all how can ministering to a sick balloon encourage or inspire anyone? But, this is my life, crazy as it is.
I have to confess a balloon WAS harmed in the making of this blog.