Scott and I realized last night that our youngest has come up with a new and creative way to kick a tantrum up a notch. (That's what Scott thinks, anyway. I'm still holding out hope that it's something medical that will resolve after his surgery. Scott tells me I need to wake up from my pipe dream.)
At least three times in the past week alone, Little Boy has worked himself up into such a frenzy that he has vomited.
One time occurred when he was in extreme pain -- he was very constipated, screaming as he tried to move his bowels, and threw up in the midst of that.
But two other times occurred in the midst of a tantrum.
Looking back even further, he has vomited "randomly" quite a few times in the past couple of months. (Is that a phrase? "Vomited randomly?") Most of those times he was away from home, unfortunately. (The nursery workers told me it was ok -- he projectiled so it didn't get on his clothes, just the floor!)
So I'm concluding that this pattern is still somewhat random. (He doesn't throw up every time he gets upset, and he doesn't throw up only when he's upset.) I'm holding out hope that it is some weird anatomical anomaly that his heart surgery might correct.
Of course, Scott laughed outloud when I suggested this last night. He says that's impossible because the heart is not directly related to the stomach, and that I'm refusing to face Little Boy's sin nature.
This is what happens when you live with funky medical issues for too long. It really muddies the waters when something new appears. Is this is a behavior issue or a medical one? Normal people, I would guess, rarely consider medical causes (I don't know though -- we haven't been a normal family since we had kids. You readers would know better than I!) But I find myself automatically assuming this is some crazy new medical problem, because most of the time it is.
One reason I hope this resolves after the surgery? My baby honeymoon is officially over. I can't walk away from Little Boy without him bursting into tears or angry cries. I'm now in that fun phase where I grit my teeth, force myself to keep doing what I need to do, and deny positive reinforcement to the bawling, snotty-nosed [vomit-covered?] pleas of the child doggedly pursuing me, pulling at my clothes, and wrapping themselves around my legs.
With previous kids, I've been known to lock myself in the bathroom just to get a sanity break. (Mom, does this sound familiar?) So if I disappear suddenly at any time in the next several months, just look for me in the bathroom.
