I had something to write about today. Actually for like two days. I just haven't had time or energy. But then my train of thought was interrupted by life at about 5am this morning. The girl child had the terrible exploding butt last night and followed up in the early AM with exploding vomit all over the room.
There isn't a book for this that I know of. I mean, there is a "what to feed them if they have stomach flu" sort of instructions you can get from books and doctors but I mean, how to handle puke all over your bedroom floor and you're barefoot and the lights are out - where is the manual for that?
Round one wasn't so bad. A bit on the nightie a bit into a quickly placed babywipe that I was able to grab and we changed jammies, determined there was no fever and she snuggled into bed with me, tucked under my chin and sleeping on my heart.
Round two took place precisely two minutes before my "You Must Get Up Now" final alarm went off. Cough cough was the prelude and I jumped up with her but too late.
I have to now say something about my husband. He's a Puke Warrior. Four kids into this life, he has always, 100% of the time, cleaned up the puke. Whether in the bedroom, bathroom, living room, a hot steamy tent in Florida, I take the kid and clean them up and he cleans up the horror show they left behind.
I am getting the best part of this deal I assure you.
The girl child is now resting, a bit sweaty, in her third set of jammies since 5am. One boy has gone off to school and I've 25 minutes before the next bus arrives. I'm drinking my coffee, the husband went out side to smoke a cigarette and is now trying to get some more sleep.
I'm sitting here realizing my stomach feels queasy.
Perfect.
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