monday

"daddy, I threw up"
with that, the choice had been made
oh, lucky daddy

Normally, I love Mondays. I know that sounds weird, but Mondays are the days when I have the most energy. I have a bright outlook on the week ahead, and I very much enjoy the quiet house when the wee one is off at school, my husband is off at work, and the wee-er one is napping. Mondays are nice.

Usually.

When Monday begins at 1:44am with the wee one bursting into my bedroom saying, "Daddy, I threw up in the bed," however, all bets are off.

Hooray for daddy, though. He cleaned up the mess, washed the sheets, cleaned up the next two messes, washed the sheets again, Lysol-ed everything (including light switches and door knobs), and got the wee one tucked back in. I stayed with the wee-er one, playing our nightly game of Titty-Twister Head Butting Shazam, and listened to the grim goings-on through the monitor.

This morning, the wee-er one is a crazy grouch. Her nose is snotty and she’s warm to the touch. The wee one is extraordinarily pissed off at me because I won’t let him go to school and I won’t let him eat a bowl of maple and brown sugar oatmeal. Sigh.

Who ever heard of a stomach virus starting off with a runny nose? That’s what happened. One runny nose + 12 hours = regurgitated lasagna all over the bed. And now the wee-er one is snotty and she’s refusing to eat.

Usually Mondays are great. This one? Not so much.

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5 thoughts on “monday

  1. Oatmeal is a far better choice than meat which has been the selection of my barfing boys. They are so not clear on the concept of eating light foods and trying to hold those down before attempting something heavy.

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  2. Ahh, the memories.
    Let me regale you with the Token Conservative’s similar episode with pasta.
    He was about 10-12 years old. The Token Conservative had spaghetti for supper one night. As he was getting ready for bed, he threw up most of the pasta. As he stood hanging his head over the toilet bowl, he looked down to notice what he thought was a huge snot hanging from his nose. He screamed “mom, there’s a huge booger coming out of my nose!”. To his mother’s horror, the “huge booger” coming from out of is his nose was actually a long strand of spaghetti. It seems some spaghetti *and* spaghetti sauce had found it’s way to the Token Conservative’s nose. After the spaghetti stands were pulled out and his nose blown to expel the sauce, he vowed never to talk about it again; unless it would comfort his favorite nephew, in letting him know that he is not alone when it comes to bad pasta experiences. The End.
    Now excuse me, but I must go cook dinner.

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  3. It’s a Miracle!!!

    I laid Tristan down in his crib and he went to sleep! No screaming. No crying. He just rolled over and went to sleep
    Tristan and I had gotten into the habit of co-sleeping a few weeks back (ok, more than a few) when he was waking with teething pain. T

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