Some time back, I wrote a post dedicated to the wonders of children's snot. Tonight, we move to the advanced level, puke.
If you have ever watched Little Britain - and I know many of my friends have - you will know the sketch where one of the actors throws up, in buckets, as if a large fat firehouse had been turned on full blast. Well, I now have a live substitute for this at home: my youngest. He had never thrown up before last night, but wow, the amount of stuff he can bring up, while on my shoulder, aimed at me, is pretty spectacular. It feels like a splatter movie in real, and is so awful that it makes me laugh - which is pretty dangerous, as it is vital to keep my eyes and mouth tightly shut during this process.
Yesterday I wrote that the only important thing in these situations is that I myself stay healthy, so that things keep going. Well, I take that back. The only important thing at the moment is that the washing machine does not collapse. My second daughter started throwing up this afternoon as well. And small kids means that they don't aim for a toilet bowl or bucket. They throw up over pillows, duvets, mattresses, carpets - and me.
I just sat in the sauna, heated up to 100 degrees, for ten minutes. I showered twice. And I drank a large cognac. Two down, three to go (people in the household, not cognacs).
Doesn't sound like fun but you are keeping you humour about it, which is great. I highly approve of the sauna and cognac remedy!!
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