My girls are sick, flu, and after being vomited on last night by the "big one" (as my husband has so lovingly dubbed her) twice, I bathed, and clothed her twice, changed the bed sheets twice, and then bathed and clothed myself (you guessed it) twice, all while my husband slept soundly. So after the"little one" started, with a full bottle of some red crap I rummaged out of the fridge in her tummy, I didn't have any more gumption to clean her up, so I just threw some fresh towels over the puke and put her back to sleep. Don't you judge me!
Saturday, June 14, 2008
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I'm pretty sure by the time the second "big one" barf came along, I would have elected my husband parent for the night. Does that enter me in the worst wife of the world contest?
Did you ever see "Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood," that part where all the kids are barfing and pooping the bed, and the mom loses it, goes off the deep end? That moment scared me off having kids for a couple years, mostly because I worried I might react the same way in a crisis.
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