A note to the triage nurse:

I get it.

It's the Eve of Christmas Eve and a Friday night. Who the Hell wants to go to work? I know I always loathed those occasional Friday night air refueling missions when I was Active Duty. Shiiiiiiit, girl! I'm with you!

But you know what else I don't want to do on the Eve of Christmas Eve and a Friday night? I don't want to watch my baby vomit so hard he's breathless. I don't want him to crumple against me after hurling the water he just drank and letting out a soft whimper because he's too weak to cry. Then, he pulls himself up and stumbles to the kitchen and says "wahwah" because he's so friggin thirsty (since he can't keep anything down). I don't want to watch him sway and stumble or feel his tight little grip on my neck as he clings to me for comfort, his breath sour with stomach acid.

Above all else, The number one thing I do not want to do on the Eve of Christmas Eve and a Friday night is talk to you. I don't know how you got where you are...working the Eve of Christmas Eve and a Friday night. Perhaps you're the lowest on the totem pole. Maybe you guys drew straws. It could be your scheduler doesn't like you. Or, maybe you're hard up for extra cash and took the shift so you could put food on the table and this makes you angry. Either way, know how you DIDN'T get to be working this Eve of Christmas Eve and a Friday night? Not by me. I had no say in the matter. In fact, I don't even know your schedular's name much less a phone number. No, triage nurse, I had no say in the matter. Please don't take it out on my baby boy, Sam.

In case you're wondering, I heard every sigh. I noticed every impatient note in your voice as you "answered" my questions. I picked up on your "You're a dummy, Mom" vibe. For example, when you asked "how many times has he puked" and I said "10" I totally heard the annoyance as you had to explain that you don't count the actual number of times barf left his mouth, you count the times he had an "episode" of puking separated by time. So, although he puked 3x, it only counts as 1 since they were back-to-back. How stupid of me not to know this.

Like I said before, I get it. I know this is no big deal to you because, well...you told me it was no big deal. I thank you for your advice on how to help my little boy. It was hard pulling that nugget of wisdom out of your brain, but I have it. Sam has finally fallen asleep and I hope he is able to fight this thing while he slumbers.

But this isn't about my little man, it's about you. Ms. Triage Nurse, I wish you a healthy life. I hope there will never be a day our paths cross because tonight I will wish on a shooting star that I could harness the power of projectile vomit so I could do so right in your face (you know since it's no big deal). Hope you enjoy the rest of your night! I will hug my children and be glad I don't have to work Eve of Christmas Eve and Friday night. I've seen how that can make a person into a cold heartless mass of shit.