Wednesday, September 19, 2012

Story Keeper

So, I got to thinking. I have a lot of stories that I don't want to forget. Not like, ultra cool, life-altering stories, but they are stories and they are mine. Some are funny. Some are sad. Some taught me something. Some are lovey. Since I don't want to forget my stories, I have decided to compile them here. Maybe it will be like a 50 First Dates kind of thing and someone will read them if they get amnesia or dementia or something. I don't want that to happen, but it's plausible, I guess. Also, maybe my babies or babies' babies will read them. I would l-o-v-e love to read stories from grandmas or mom when they were in their 20s. (If you don't know me, folks, it seems that I have to have a reason to do something. Not just a 'Hey this seems like fun. I'll do it.' reason. Weird. I think I just learned that about myself.) Anyways, #storykeeper, y'all.


One time, I was babysitting. I was babysitting a fam of 4. Their dad had dropped them off, and we were getting ready for bed. Once everyone was in bed the eldest told me his stomach hurt. I asked him what he ate for dinner, and he told me Chinese food and pizza. Oh no. That can't be a good combo. I told him to lay on the couch and that I would rub his back. He told me his mom usually got a trash can when his stomach hurt like this. Oh, good. So, I got a trash can. I started rubbing his back, and about 30 seconds later he was vomming his face off and crying. I was so sad for him, and so gag-gy. I called his mom. No answer. Turns out I had 2 numbers for her in my phone and one was wrong. I found the right one and she still didn't answer. Luckily, she called back within about 5 minutes saying she was on her way home. (I left a voicemail saying, 'Um, hi. It's Celeste. Xyz is sick and throwing up. Uh...yea. Bye.'
When she called back she asked to talk to her babe, so I gave him the phone even though he was still a little preoccupied crying and dry-heaving and such. He was holding the phone. He leaned over to spit. He dropped said phone into the bag-o-chunder and looked at me all wide-eyed and nervous. Sick. 'It's okay.' I said quietly, as I pulled said phone out of barf-can. I put it on speaker phone. She kept praying. I tried not to gag.

Eventually he quit throwing up, mom came home and I cleaned my phone off. And I used that phone until the day my contract expired. Still works today (over a year since I've gotten a new one, y'all.) Ironically though, I did get very sick the next week. So did my bestie though, and I hadn't seen her since the incident, so I don't really think the 2 were related.