Pretty much the moment a mother makes a statement about how her children are or the way her household is run, then something conspires to make a liar of her. Is it fate? Murphy's Law? I don't know, but I have been stuck sleeping in the same bed with my KIDS for the past two freaking nights running. I may not have said, but I don't sleep well next to squiggle bums. My girls are both highly advanced squigglers.
The only happy highlight to last nights tragicomedy of a puke fest, is that after the first couple of rounds of the old heave-ho, my three year old got the hang of yakking in a bowl. I know adults who cannot hit a bowl, and my Birdie DID NOT SPILL A DROP! Bless her sweet little soul, it warmed the crabby old cockles of my heart and improved my attitude toward her greatly. Poor LaLa, however, does not even understand what the heck is going on except that it isn't fun and she doesn't like it. Meh. Luckily most of her food had digested before she began and Birdie laid off... both around 6:00am. Once again, a bare minimum to clean up as yuk-fests go.
In our house we call bath water "bum-water" to help underscore the importance of NOT DRINKING the water yer dirty old bum has been marinating in. We talk about it alot, the "not drinking it" bit... and yet I suspect entire gallons have been consumed between both girls.
"Mama, last night I had a dream," says Birdie this morning at the breakfast table.
"Yeah, I dreamed that LaLa was under the bum-water and I couldn't reach her," Birdie says nodding her head gravely.
"Under the bum-water?"
"Uh-huh. I was scared 'cause I couldn't reach her."