I woke up last night (this morning) at around 4 to the sounds of vomit - you can't mistake that wonderful sound, can you? Coming out of my stupor (hush, y'all), I register sloppy, splashing sounds of something hitting the flat water of the toilet...
Stepping into the hall, I realized one of my daughters had just spray painted the antique linoleum of the hallway with gut gravy... and I was standing smack dab in it.
Long story short - Jack had gotten sick last night and she couldn't keep it in on the long trek from bed to bath. She left a slimy trail behind her.
I spent the next hour giving her a bath and removing the trail of sludge - which literally started from her bedroom door and ended as an explosion around the toilet.
I have a weak stomach.
Where is that 'every other' parent when you need 'em?
So, we get back to 'normal.' I put her on the couch next(er) to the bathroom with a trash can at her side; give her a cold, wet washcloth for her tum-tum and a glass of water... then I head off to bed and into fitful dreams of her eating year-old chicken noodle soup which she had hidden under her bed for later - hence the sickness.
I got up this morning and pushed the button on my brandy-like-new coffee pot... and went in to take a shower. My design was to come out, clean as a whistle (wit-woo) and enjoy a nice cuppa with a towel piled on my head.
No such luck.
My brandy-like-new coffee pot isn't registering it has any water. It be broke... like my heart.