So we went to the beach for the second time and as the sea was a bit rough I had piglet (3) and the little Viking (5) with me, one on each knee as I crouched in the waves and as they broke on us jumped up just enough to “survive” the “tsunamis”.
You forget how much fun you had as a little kid doing stuff like that after half a century of life on this planet, but they reminded me of it and I got into it as much as they were. After a few minutes the boy wanted to do his own thing for a bit with bucket and spade (he likes to build doomed castles right by the waters edge —a sign of his interest in ancient ruins I assume), but piglet would have stayed with me in the water for as long as I could take it.
So me and her continued to play in the waves until one splash must have happened just as she was breathing in or something and next thing I know, as I rise out of the wave, I get caught by a slightly smaller one but with a lot more force.
She projectile vomited right into my face, neck, shoulder and chest. I could actually feel the chunks of sandwich, from lunch, egg bits from breakfast and possibly last night’s pasta splattering on me. As I stood to make sure she would not get caught by the next wave as she was busy clearing her stomach all over me.
All pretty natural reaction to swallowing some sea water, but as she rook her first breath, spit and snot streaming from her pretty little, curly-haired face, I asked her if she was alright and she nodded enthusiastically, even if she couldn’t speak yet, as the second wave of vomit soon ejected directly onto my face and head too.
I waited patiently, while she finished hurling on me and asked her again if she was okay.
Enthusiastic head nod.
Okay, I said and wiped her nose and mouth, and she spat out a bit then when she could speak I asked her a third time.
Her reply: “Yes daddy, I’m fine!”
So I took a moment to sink myself under the waves and wipe off the puke. The radius of floating chunks around us was about a metre. She always has been an impressive eater, hence the nickname she is very proud of: piglet.
As soon as I was cleaned off we moved a bit to a spot that didn’t look like we released a water smoke bomb for aerial rescue, and carried on.
What I observed a little while after, is that precisely while she was projectile vomiting directly into my face, two things happened.
The first is that my reaction/fighting reflexes kicked in, I kept eyes narrowed enough not to be blinded by the fire hydrant stomach contents, and moved my eyes just out of the direct path, but I kept watching her and my brain just did its observer thing it does when I get into that Zen/fighting mode. It’s kind of just like an autistic, purely objective, very calm, emotionless noticing.
* Ok she’s puking
* Head way above water (as I rise/stand)
* No incoming waves
* She’s secure, just let her finish and see how she is doing, all good
And the second thing that was going on was a relatively mild but hyper-focused concern on her well-being. Even at the instinctive level of the first half second while my brain registered what was happening, there was zero sense of disgust. It was just completely absent, didn’t even feature. Which I found interesting.
On discussing it later with my wife, she said (she had to deal with multiple pukes and worse in bed with pretty much all of them at some point. I generally only once or twice):
“Oh yes, nothing quite as fun as dealing with a bunch of puke in your bed at 3am.”
I agreed with her she obviously had the better experience of it, compared to my mere rinse off in the ocean.
With a wistful, almost melancholic look in her eyes, she said:
“Oh yes… if only all my vomits had happened in the ocean…”
Next time I may suggest she plays in the waves with them too. I’m not sure I should deprive her of experiencing this small joy while they are still small.
Four kids in, and I have experienced a few 3AM vomitting sessions. I have had the same experience as you of my sense of disgust just not showing up to the party. Fatherly concern for their wellbeing completely overrides it.