For the past several days the kids have had runny noses (yay!), coughs (double yay!) and a low-grade fever (Um, how awesome is my life right about now?!).  At the end of last week when this all started, Greg asked if I thought we should take them to the doctor and I was all, “Nah.  It’s probably viral and it will work itself out.  They are eating/drinking/peeing/pooping/playing fine.  They go to daycare where everybody shares germies.  We will just give them Tylenol for their low-grade fevers and they will be fine.”


Then last night, I took the kids to mom & dad’s house so that Greg could work on a big paper (that isn’t even due until next week but he’s an awesome student and is actually ahead-rather than behind like I usually was in college).  We stayed out a little later than I had anticipated and Adrianna fell asleep on the way home.

No biggie.

I carried all 24-pounds of cuteness inside where she promptly woke up, lifted her flushed little face off of my shoulder, coughed once and then proceeded to puke all over herself, me, all of the shoes that were in the entryway, inside some of the shoes that were in the entryway, you get the idea.

I’m pretty convinced that she threw up because she had swallowed so much snot during the day that she finally just . . . got rid of it.  Icky.

If there is something worse than vomit?  It’s snot/vomit combo.

::tap tap:: Is anybody still here??

Anyway, she needed a bath which meant that Brock decided he should get to take a bath too which meant that at 8:30pm when both of my children should have been asleep (or pretending to be asleep), they were happily splashing around in the bathtub.

We finally got both of the kids in bed & mostly asleep by 9:30pm.  I collapsed into bed, exhausted & smelling like regurged soy milk.  There are some things that one shower simply will not cure.

Then it started.

Brock coughed.

He coughed again.

Then I heard the cough that he usually unleashes just prior to going all exorcist on his bedroom.

We made it to the bathroom just in the nick of time.

While he is gagging & heaving & dripping, he takes the time to pitifully look up at me and say, “Mooooommmmm?  I have romit on my hand.  Would you please wipe it off for me?”

This is exactly why so many children survive their childhood.  They have this impeccable knack for being completely miserable and therefore making you completely miserable and then, in the blink of an eye, they do something that is so cute & sweet that all of a sudden, you don’t even notice that someone else’s vomit is all over your clean t-shirt.


6 thoughts on “Romit.

  1. When Noah had the flu a couple weeks ago, he thanked me for cleaning him up. Poor boy is flushed and tired and has puked up everything there could have ever been in his body, and he thanks me for cleaning him up!

  2. Sorry, but I am glad they saved it for home. You know your mom and puke! Especially slimy ones! Making me gag just thinking about it.
    Maybe if you call it romit, it will make it better.
    Sorry, they are off milk tomorrow at my house!

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