Refunding

One time on Seinfeld they referred to barfing as "refunding." I thought that was a nice way to put it.

Here's one aspect of teaching that I never thought would come naturally to me, but I'm dealing with it more maturely than I expected.

I don't know what it is with all you 7 and 8-year-olds, but you guys barf a lot. 

Today, my kid D just let it fly during Writing Workshop all over himself, his chair, and the floor and stared at me like I was his mom or something. Like I was his person! Like I had to be the one to take action!

In the past, I might have run away screaming or more likely just vomited myself out of pure grossed-outedness. But somehow God has decided to develop the nurturing gene that I somehow have way deep down in my soul and gave me the strength to go over there, clean him up, and help him to the garbage can. It's happened three times this week in my classroom and I've seen it 3 times in the halls/recess areas in the past two days.

I think the reason for my unexpected compassion in these gross situations is that I know from experience that the second I throw up my immediate thought is, "WHERE IS MY MOTHER?!" as if she is going to come in and clean me up and make me toast while I watch The Price is Right on the couch. So I can understand the tendency to look around the room as a second grader when you refund your lunch and to immediately look for the closest thing that looks like your mom. I mean, I look nothing like my kids' moms, but I am older than them and I am a female. Close enough. 

Props to my mom for putting up with my crybaby self whenever I barf. Heck, props to ALL THE MOMS. One day, if I join your ranks, I'll be thankful for D who saw me as qualified to help his poor self out.

Onward and upward. Hopefully my naming today Throw-up Thursday isn't prophetic for the rest of the year.