#25 – Little Miss Muffet

Ahhhh, Saturdays. The beginning of the all too short weekend. The day to get shit done around the house because Sundays always get me down*.

Unfortunately this past Saturday heralded in the funk at Mama’s house. Not more than one hour after Aitch had her bottle (yes, she still is using a bottle. What of it?!?), and while we were all still lounging around in pjs discussing whether it was eggs and bacon day or pancakes day (Doodicus picks), she decided to unload the entire contents.

In an amazing display of centrifugal force, my cheek (and mouth!), neck and hair could only stop a small portion of what ended up hitting the floor in a curds and whey streak five foot long. What lead up to me becoming a human barf bag is that while I was in the front room blogging working, I heard Aitch start to whine and cry, like Doodicus had taken a toy from her or ejected her from the little rocking chair. I was prepared to reprimand him as I saw her standing there, clutching her hands together in front of her. Then I just assumed she had smooshed her hand into something. She reached for me and I picked her up and that’s when hell broke loose.

I rushed her into the bathroom and we sat in the tub while Sparring Partner and I got her cleaned up. I was grateful that I had gone to bed in a tank top under my t-shirt and was able to get most of the funk off of me simply by peeling off one layer.

I then focused my attention on cleaning up the mess left on the living room carpet and noted cast off on several toys. While I hate my Kirby vacuum, I was grateful for the shampoo attachments.

She did OK for the rest of the morning, drinking only a bit of clear pedialyte mixed with 7up, a chunk of banana and a couple of crackers. She woke from her morning nap not hungry, but once she saw Sparring Partner snacking on some chips, she quickly sidled up to him. I said it couldn’t hurt.

After one chip, she again upchucked.

Since then, she’s started coughing, oozing green snot, and one eye is weeping. Isn’t that what we refer to as a hot mess? Sparring Partner is currently suffering from an intestinal bug and I’m high on Tylenol Cold medicine for my troubles. Doodicus on the other hand, is a picture of health. He paid no attention to the drama that unfolded literally at his feet Saturday (hello?! the tv was on!); and since he refuses to give or take kisses, he has avoided transference of any number of funkified germs floating about the house – knock on wood.

I stayed home with Aitch yesterday, but today I figured I’d return the favor to the daycare and sent her on her way. She’s on antibiotics for yet another ear infection and bronchitis.

Needles to say, we are off the hook for Thanksgiving dinner at our house Thursday. (whoot!) It looks like it just might be the four of us hanging out together with Doodicus holding down the fort while the rest of us alternate between warming up the throne or getting some much needed beauty rest.

Maybe with this long weekend, I’ll be able to get to those questions, specifically the one about my art degree which will require photographic proof. My computer + pictures = frustrated Yo-yo, so try to be optimistic, OK?

* Extra brownie points if you know who sung this?