Oh, What a Beautiful Morning!

So, my husband left I guess between 2:30 and 3:00 to experience the thrills of deer-hunting on opening day of gun season. Woohoo. Whatever. God knows, I wasn’t awake. But, I certainly was at 3:20, when my son decided to wake up, sit out of bed, and let me know by sitting on my head that he was not only wide awake, but hungry as well! Ok, damn. “Well, time to get used to late-night feedings again.” I thought.

I play with him for a minute or two, just in time for my daughter to come running down the hall, arms straight in the air above her head, declaring, “I’m gonna puke! I’m gonna puke!” I reply, “Well, get to the toilet!” I set my son in his crib, which is obviously the ultimate insult to him, by the way he is screaming….

I run to the linen closet to grab the “puke pan” for my daughter, in case she can’t make it to the bathroom in time. Sure enough, there she is in the bathroom….sitting on the toilet! Ok, so I let her know just to come back to bed with us once she is finished, and I will run down to grab Jackson a bottle. (Baby screams in the background) I give her the puke pan, and run downstairs, trying to keep my cool. I run back up in record time with the aforementioned bottle for my son, only to see that my daughter has now placed the “puke pan” on my dresser of all places, and she is holding back her hair, barfing and spitting into the trusty vomit receptacle. I give Jack the bottle and set him on the bed, turning on Cartoon Network, and lock the bedroom door, so he cannot flee. I then pat my daughter on the back, secretly so disgusted with the odor, chunks, and sound that I am grinding my teeth in fear that I may, at any time, wretch myself; and I am sure that I cannot hit the pan without unleashing my stomach contents onto her precious head. Thank God she stopped right then.

We walked into the bathroom, and I made a cold, wet washcloth for her to place on her forehead. Crisis over, thank goodness. I just have to rinse the pan and flush it so I can disinfect it. Flush…..Damn! My master bathroom toilet is clogged!!! Thank goodness, no, it didn’t overflow. Most of the barf nuggets went down, and I decided that was damned-well good enough.

So, applaud me, dammit! I never lost my cool for a moment. Just one more page in the gigantic book composed since the beginning of time called, “Why Moms Rock”.