Part I: Superpowers at the Armory
Part II: Superpowers Aren't Enough
As Joel's dinner magically reappeared beside our bed, we both responded with catlike reflexes.
My cupped hands found Joel's chin.
Daddy lept to his feet to assist.
I heard him fumbling about with items on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. Kyle's blind without his glasses, but surely LIGHT would help. I wish I could say I asked with honey dripping from my lips, but I'm sure it was a menacing growl: "Could you turn on the light?"
"I'm trying." He gasped. "My hand is asleep."
My momentary sympathy was usurped by my own disgust. There are warm chunks in my hand. The knob on the lamp is one thing, but the switch on the wall would also help.
Finally, he got the light on and ran out of the room, presumably to fetch a receptacle. The nesting stainless steel bowls I got for Christmas from my mom a few years ago have come in handy for similar situations in the past. I heard him searching in the kitchen.
With the light on, I could see my legs trapped under our 30 pound down comforter. This problem solving Zombie Mommy had no idea how to get out from under the weight without hands. Finally, I slinked my legs out the side and turned to a sitting position pulling Joel's chin with me. This is no small feat - do you know what 6 pregnancies can do to your abs? Obliterate them. You should try this sometime.. while holding a palm full of someone else's regurgitated dinner. There is no superpower for this. That was pure adrenaline.
*Gameshow idea: Parenting Fear Factor. I've got poop and vomit scenarios to keep them on air for years. I digress.*
An eternity (like 5 whole seconds) passed and Kyle had not returned. Maybe he slipped on a puddle of water on the tile floor and was lying unconscious in a pool of his own blood. No matter, it was time for me and Joel - still tossing his cookies - to make our way to the bathroom.
To be concluded...