Sunday, May 18, 2014
I made delicious chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast, and all the kids lurved them.
We came home to play and take a shower (me), and things were going SO WELL. At 10:30, Dorothy took a break from happily playing in our closet where she loves to roll around in a pile of Ben's ties and my scarves and rub her face in my clothes that hang on a low bar and toddled happily to her room where I heard her playing with her musical instruments.
At 10:40, Cooper inquired "Yum yum? Have?" so I went into the kitchen to turn on the griddle which I ;left out after breakfast because I planned to make us all grilled cheese sandwiches. I had just turned the dial to 250 degrees and opened the fridge when I heard Dorothy stomping down the hall. Then she coughed, and it sounded like something spilled. Then I heard her fall down and bump something-- I assumed her head-- on the floor. I waited for the scream and went to investigate. What I saw stopped me in my tracks.
She puked, slipped in it, banged her head, struggled to her feet, and let loose another tidal wave of bile all over the wall. IT WAS HORRIFIC.
I took off my clothes (I was wearing a really cute outfit and was fresh from the shower) before I wrapped her in a huge towel and deposited her in a bubble bath. She played happily with the faucet while I bagged her soiled clothes and cleaned up the hallway. She was still happy after her bath, so I put her in some jammies and nursed her and put her down for a nap.
She stayed asleep for about 30 minutes giving me enough time to switch the laundry and start on the garbage bag full of rancid clothes and towels, feed and tuck in Cooper, and eat a salad. Then she started crying, and I found her face down in a puke-covered crib.
For the rest of the afternoon, we cuddled on the couch, me wearing a towel over my yoga pants and bleach stained t-shirt and her sliming all over me every 10 or 20 minutes. She couldn't keep anything down and was so, so sad.