Our Kodak Moment

Big Brother woke up with a bit of a fever yesterday morning. He just wasn't himself, so we kept him home, loaded him up with Tylenol and by 9:30, he was wanting to go to school. He played pretty well the rest of the day, took a really long nap and woke up feeling good. So in my naive mind, I thought it was over. My baby was all better.

Yesterday evening, we were scheduled to have our portrait taken at church for the directory. I don't like doing photos, as found in my infamous "Why Do I Torture Myself". But I dressed Big Brother and Baby Jaws in their matching shirts and thought, it won't be that bad.

After waiting for awhile, Big Brother announced he had to poop. And boy, did he ever. He even said, "Shew wee. Do you smell that? I need to flush that." After all that, I was thinking surely he's feeling better by now. A little while later and still waiting for our turn, "I need to poop" was uttered again, which meant it was my husband's turn. A couple of minutes after the boys went back to the bathroom, they called us to have our picture taken. We are known for our perfect timing.

As Baby Jaws and I were waiting for them to join us and the photographer, here are the texts I received from my husband:
"It's got some stank on it."
"The fan can't keep up."
"Courtesy flush didn't help either."
"I'm gagging."
"Now he's barfing."
"Get in here."

Luckily, I had my phone on vibrate and didn't get a one of the texts. When they finally joined us, Big Brother looked awful. The photographer set us all up as Big Brother said, "I don't want my picture taken." The photographer just started taking pictures, but Big Brother didn't feel like smiling. As he kept taking pictures, Big Brother said, "I need to puke."

I couldn't move because of the table up against my body that Baby Jaws was propped upon. My husband couldn't move because I was pretty much propped up against him. The photographer apparently thought Big Brother was just being difficult. I think he realized his mistake of continuing to try to photograph us as Big Brother finally puked.

Always in Mommy mode, I stuck my hand out to catch it because so help me, he wasn't going to get puke on his shirt before we had a decent family photo. Since the rest of us couldn't move, the photographer leaped into action. He jumped over cords to get me a towel and threw it at me from across the room. Well, it's a towel, not a ball. It didn't get to me. It sort of stopped in mid-air and floated to the floor, like any towel would do. So he ran to it again and threw it at me again. He was really concerned, but the puke wasn't bothering me. I made quite a catch to save our photo.

Then the photographer said we could try again later. I was not down with that since we had already waited so long and my kid was puking. So in the words of Yoda, "Do or do not...there is no try." I told him we'd go finish puking and then he could take a decent picture. So we did. I was not torturing myself or my son any longer.

Afterward, we thanked Big Brother for his job well done and the fact that we didn't have to stay and listen to a sales pitch while looking at our wonderful photos. My husband was a little disappointed. He wished the photographer would have taken a good shot of my handful of puke. He said we definitely would have ordered that one. We're always looking for Christmas card material.