Last night was like a scene from a movie; there was vomit everywhere. Ashton threw up on a soundly sleeping Reagan. Reagan threw up on a soundly sleeping Jimmy. Jimmy threw up in every bathroom in the house. And I was the vomit catching, hair washing, back rubbing slave through it all. Thank the good Lord that I only
felt sick and didn't ever
get sick, because then we'd be out of hands to hold barf bowls for the kids. I was damn close to putting both kids on the kitchen floor with two bowls and leaving them there to fend for themselves. I mean, after the first 10 times using the bowl, they knew the drill. Besides, by that time, it was all dry-heaving, so the mess would likely be limited...
This morning, I called my mom to thank her for all the times she had a similar experience with me, because it takes love. Real love.
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