In the realm of parenting, there is nothing quite like waking up to the sound of your four year old puking a mountain of spaghetti right smack next to your pillow at 2:00 am. At least he missed my head. And, of course, Mr. Incredible was in Stillwater, Oklahoma for this event. At least we were both being punished at the same time.
I apologize if you thought you were going to eat breakfast in a few minutes or if you were planning to cook pasta this evening. I needed you to share my pain, and I thank you for being there for me. You are the wind beneath my wings.
Poor little Bonus. He seems fine now, but since I had to change sheets and wash pillows, sheets, and mattress protectors IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT (but I'm not bitter or anything), he had to stand there and shiver for a bit until I put on the extra set of sheets (the flowered ones that I hate and only put on when there has been such an incident). I'm really not that good at puke duty because it makes me gag. So, I start to clean up, and then I have to throw up. It takes a little longer that it should for me to get everything all tidied up. Mr. Incredible, however, is a superhero who is able to clean up puke with out a single gag. Yes, he thinks he should get a medal for having cleaned up my chocolate milk and Cheetos mess when I was with child.
For the other end... I was shopping in Walgreen's and noticed a not-so-favorite teacher from RNR's school. RNR, Bonus and I all said hello to her and then continued with our shopping. When we got up to the register, she was right ahead of us. I don't know about you, but when I run into someone in a store, my eyes almost always wander to what they are purchasing. It's an almost automatic thing, and then, you know, you ask them a question like, "Grilling steaks tonight, Bob?" You know, you put on your sign that says, "Mistress of the Obvious" and make small talk about their lives based on their purchases. Innocent and friendly enough, right?
And this person is always in a bad mood and gripes at the kids. And I guess it's no wonder now. Why couldn't it have been tampons?
And then our eyes accidentally meet, and I sooooo do not know what to do because the thought that pops into my head is, "I hope everything comes out okay." Which causes me to have a little giggle that I am trying to stiffle so that I don't embarrass her. She quickly leaves, and I practically run to the car and bust out laughing. And RNR and Bonus, of course, want to know why I am laughing.
Yes, apparently, I am really an eight year old boy walking around in the body of a thirty-nine year old woman. Don't fall for it if I ask you, "What's under there?"