Today is a day for bad bodily functions. The kind of day you tell your parents about and they laugh at you because ha! Didn't they tell you about the time you puked on them in the middle of Disneyworld's Space Mountain? After they had fed you cotton candy, ice cream, and popcorn? No, the ride so soon after you had gorged your little tummy on crap had nothing to do with it. Ha! You got puked on!
Yeah. Thanks dad.
So far I've been puked on 3 times, had pedialyte dumped in my lap once, been surprised by toiletus eruptus twice, gone through 5 outfit changes for me and 4 for Hurricane, 3 showers (mine) 2 baths (his), one load of laundry containing only puked on clothing, and 4 attempted naps (no sleep actually involved).
Hurricane saves all his puking for me. Mr X can be holding him, but then he reaches for me so I take him. And then he pukes on me. Isn't that thoughtful? He saves it all for the parent who can't even pick up a cat turd without 2 pairs of disposable gloves, a roll of paper towels, 409 and a gas mask.
Girl X flooded the toilet. I don't know why I was surprised. It happens at least once a week. And I just realized I'm going to have to set up a separate account for her therapy.
Also? Blogging while insanely sleep-deprived? Not smart.
Do you know what happens when you blog while insanely sleep-deprived?
You give people an entry dedicated to vomit and potty overflow. And typos. Lots of typos. Which I fixed. I think it's the least I can do if you are actually going to read an entry involving me getting puked on.