Recently we outgrew our barf bucket. Rather, it was used one too many times and it was time to retire it to the landfill and purchase a new one. You do have a barf bucket, don’t you? I’m going to go ahead and refer to it as a puke bucket now- alliteration be damned; I hate the word ‘barf’.
For years we’ve been using a large Rubbermaid round container that I had lost the lid to. I’m not sure why I bought this thing in the first place, as I never make food for 40 people. So instead of being thrown out it was relegated to the role of catching our spew during desperate times of illness.
This last time it was Annie who apparently couldn’t handle whatever had poisoned her Chipotle burrito bowl, and boy was that girl in a bad way. So was the poor bowl, so we made a family decision to bid it farewell.
What’s a family with 4 kids to do when suddenly there’s nothing to catch their vomit and it’s still the middle of Winter? This is not a good position to be in- you’re just asking for a 2am bedroom explosion. Since I’m on a wild throwing-out-everything binge, I have firmly decided that I will not bring anything into this house unless it is: 1. Absolutely beautifully designed 2. Of utmost importance to our day-to-day lives 3. A stray goat.
Buying a new puke bucket is a tricky undertaking. You don’t want something giant and unwieldy that will take up too much space anywhere, you don’t want anything too shallow in case of back-spray. You certainly do not want something someone will mistake for a food dish. This was a phenomenon of the 70’s, where everyday serving bowls doubled as spew containers, and one that should really be put to rest.
I finally decided that the best course of action would be a small trashcan, but the cans at Target were all over the $10 mark, which is far too extravagant a price for such an item. Then I spied the cheap-ass end cap of cheap-ass tiny garbage cans, and I knew I had found our new receptacle de regurgitation.
I think it’s only fitting that the thing is rather modern and lovely to fit my new purchasing requirements, yet highly functional and narrow enough to tuck away in a crevice. I asked Beckett if he wanted to take it for a test spin, but he didn’t have any poison to extricate from his system just then, so he showed me what I could expect when he did need this. Although I don’t know who I’m fooling trying to train a 5 year old to use a puke bucket when everyone knows they prefer to let loose in their parent’s bed.