Dear God.
Thank you for blessing me with good health, a loving and caring husband, 5 beautiful children and a bounty of friends and family. I am truly blessed.
But may I trouble you for just one more thing? I know with You, all things are possible, so may I humbly request that we do a little quantum leap through time and skip my upcoming birthday? As You (of course) know, birthdays have been a little challenging this year. You'll recall we held Grandma Simmel's Rosary on The Captain's birthday and the funeral on Dear Hubby's birthday.
But today, oh, gracious. Just in case you missed any part of the baby's birthday let me remind you.
6:30 PM - We were 50 miles from home when The Blitz started vomiting. And he did it twice more before we actually got home. I did get a bit nervous when I had to swerve off the interstate right in front of that police officer.
8: 30 PM Once we finally got home and the baby stopped vomiting, The Captain managed to get every bit of his deposit on my new living room carpet. And how come in the midst of all the vomiting I have to assign an able-bodied "big" to guard the mess so the dog doesn't eat it?
9:30 PM -- re-jammy both boys and try to get 4 little kids to sleep in the same room because if it's going to get thrown up in, it might as well be thrown up on by all of them, right? I give them a probably pointless little speech about going into the bathroom if their tum-tum hurts.
Dear Hubby comes in and I warn him he might want to steer clear of ALL of us.
11:00 PM -- Suspicious sounds over the monitor. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Tink has soaked her pillow, her beds, her pjs, all of it. Clean her up, put her on the living room floor, and wash my hands for the 50th time.
Sunshine notices the Captain has done it in his sleep. It's not much. I wipe him up and he doesn't even wake. I throw a cloth diaper on the spot on his bed.
And even though I've changed my clothes (twice now), washed everything I could pull lose from the car, cleaned the carpet and Lysol-ed the entire house, I still stink a little; some kinds of stink just doesn't wash out.
11:30 PM -- uh, oh, I know that sound. The Captain, God bless him, is sitting on the little stool next to the commode -- you guessed it. Although I'm proud of him for getting there, it is inexplicably all over his back and in his hair.
Only our little "puddin' pop" -- our foster friend -- is unscathed. Dear Lord let her please have one of those iron tummies that you have blessed me with.
And that's the baby's birthday -- so far.
But I digress. So you see, oh Almighty One,I have a little fear and trepidation approaching the next family birthday which happens to be mine. May I just go on record as saying that if either dog or the cat throw up or look like they might die, they are out. I mean it. I'll do anything for the people but those animals are on my last nerve.
Humbly,
Beleaguered mother
Oh my goodness! What an evening! You have my empathy and sympathy.
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