Sunday, April 30, 2006
The Door Man awoke me this morning at *thankfully* 5:25 "I frew up in bed ... all over."
And he wasn't lying. But the "all over" was, thankfully, contained to the ugly brown reversible throw with the bear on it. That will now give me an excellent reason to rid this house of the monstrosity. This is one of the blankets that you just can't stand to cover up with, let alone put down for a picnic somewhere.
Door Man has gotten sick some more since that, which totally shot to shit my thought that he drank the water at Great Wolf Lodge, or that he drank his chocolate shake from our local ice cream establishment way too fast.
So now this is the waiting game. The thing I hate the most. Waiting for the other two to light up and grace us with either the noise of someone getting sick to their stomach, or the oldest coming in to deliver the same message of doom.
Why can't I have children who don't start puking until they are nine years old? Someone in choir with me said she had to TEACH her then 9 YO how to puke in a trashcan. That can't be us, though. We have to have the Vomit Kids.
I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.
A bone to pick