It is 1:21 am.
This is not how I pictured writing my second entry. I was thinking it was going to be more hipster-cool mom. Sitting at my minimalist ikea desk, sipping some oregon chai out of my vintage strawberry shortcake mug, clacking away on my typewriter… Ok, maybe not that last one.
I did not think I was going to be sitting in the recliner at my mother in laws house (by the way my MIL is amazing. I’m sure I’ll touch on that at some point) rocking my congested, teething, vomitus five month old.
But what could be more inspiring than a sick, snotty, cranky baby? Well tonight, nothing. This is it people. The real deal.
[This is where my newbie blogger skills have failed me, I tried to add my picture here but it’s showing up on the bottom. Oh well.]
This is parenting at its finest. Actually this is mediocre, run o’the mill parenting. It could be a whole heap worse than being awake at 1:43 am (and it could be a whole heap better).
If you’re not
prepared willing to clean up a pukey baby before you even remove your bile soaked shirt, or stay up until unholy hours of the night and/or morning rocking the afore mentioned Pukey McPukerton, don’t have kids.
A few days ago Averie asked me why vomit was called vomit and of course I
know exactly why have no idea why it’s called what it is, but we started thinking of all the names we know for it.
What did we miss?
Someone please tell me a good “I got barfed on story”.
I think I’ll have a budding blog barf story contest. Winner gets an “I got barfed on” shirt. No idea what that looks like but I’ll make it happen.
Tell yah friends.