My poor kids have been sick then healthy then sick and then last Friday, sick enough that I had to stay home and watch after their butts. There’s a lot of butt checks in parenting, which no one ever tells you about. I might have read about diaper rashes or upset tummies, but I never read about how I would sniff that mutant odor and have to screech to a halt in the middle of the aisle to investigate WHO POOPED? I JUST CHANGED YOUR DIAPER! Oh you have to wait until I’m in the dressing room to pull that move? Nice.
And TJ has had the worst of it with stomach flu emerging, disappearing and hello, you’re back again! The other day, we headed to Taco Del Mar after picking up the kids from daycare. As I carried him from the car to the restaurant, he threw up all. over. me. TWICE. It was disgusting. Like someone just drive-by launched a tub of cottage cheese and I was giving my Nancy Kerrigan wail, “WHY!? WHY!?!” It soaked through my clothes. Cars passed by slowly to gawk at the woman who had just been horked on TWICE. Why wasn’t that included in What to Expect if You’re Expecting A BABY WHO APPARENTLY HATES BURRITOS. If there’s a silver lining anywhere here, it’s that he didn’t throw up on me *inside* Taco Del Mar because if I couldn’t go in ever again because my son cut off my burrito connection, I would be in mourning for a long time.
We’re finally surfacing out of the illnesses, long enough to spend a few hours yesterday scavenging thrift store sales. TJ and I took a break at the fancy McDonald’s in Redmond and I grunted and chased him around like a crazy mom who is so glad that he isn’t throwing any projectiles her way.