Hurlinator horror

Hurlinator horror

Why is it that children decide that the best time to hurl up everything they have eaten is at 3:00am?  Can they not do this, oh say, at noon when everyone is awake and the sun is shining and their parents are actually not comatose in their bed?!  Zarek decided to toss his cookies with a mighty force last night.

Thank god Clint and I have a deal–written in blood–that there are two things in this relationship that I will not do.  (Okay, there are more, but these are the ones that I insisted be included in our wedding vows.)

1.  I do not sort socks.  I will wash them.  I will dry them.  I will NOT sort them.  I am strongly of the belief that everyone should get 365 pairs of socks for New Years.  A new pair for every day.  Never ever to be dealt with again after being worn.  Clint is in charge of socks.  It is a mental necessity.  Trust me.

2.  I do not clean vomit.  Ever.  I don’t do it.  I can’t.  I am a sympathetic puker.  If you hurl in my presence, look out.  I will join you.  Every. Time.  This is not enjoyable for anyone at 3:00am.  Usually I can just take care of the child and get them cleaned up while he does the disgusting work.

However, I couldn’t even do that last night.  As I walked near his room the fumes actually burned my eyes and melted my face right off of my skull.  Never have I been so grossed out before.  I had to frantically flee back to the safety of…well, anywhere.  Sympathetic mom?  Not so much. I am pretty sure that there was a toxic plume of chemicals hovering over our home

I did what I could but everytime I went near him or his room, again with the face flesh burning.  I managed to get him as cleaned as I could before racing back to my room to hide in my closet curling up in a fetal position in shock and horror.

Thankfully, it was something that he ate and not the tragedy of an ongoing stomach virus.  No other major event to pretend I am sleeping through.  But tell me…is it wrong that I offered to pay him $100 to NOT throw up while his Dad wasn’t home?  It must’ve been a good incentive because he didn’t get sick again.  Now I need to pay up.

Let me tell you, though.

SO. Worth. It.


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