It Gets Better? (or I Was Depressed But Then… Puke)

Well after the day I had yesterday, the Universe showed me why I’m still here.  I am a pretty good puke cleaner-upper, forehead rubber(?), and sick kid cuddler.

Poor kid started in around 10 after having conked out well before the CNA even left at 8. I stayed up till 2 am, which was three pukes in. Ron got the last one and kind-of-slept-but-not-really on the couch with Sarah (after working 11-11). Then I took over at 5:30 when she woke up and Ron went to bed for a few hours (before working again 11-11). What a team!

He’s a trooper though because I take full responsibility.  I believe I gave her bad leftovers.  She’s the only one who had some of the taco salad that was still in there. Well, at least she got it all out.  All out onto the floor, wall, dresser, play kitchen, window sill, curtain, books, toys, but miraculously managed to get not a single chunk on the bed.

She stayed home from school today and we cuddled, watched kid song videos on YouTube, and she took a nap on my shoulder.  Somewhere in there, I did three loads of laundry (eww…  puke towels), washed dishes (after clearing the old leftovers out of the fridge so no one else gets sick) and rounded up two bags of trash to take out for pick-up.

Today was okay.  Is it a bad thing to feel grateful for food poisoning?

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