In my last post I regaled you all with a story of my daughter’s vomiting and then I disappeared for a few days.  Why you ask?  If you are a more experienced parent you may have realized it’s because Greyson and I caught the Satan’s Stomach Flu that cursed Charlotte and others at her daycare.  Her teacher told us “the parents get it much worse.”

No shit.

Well, not literally “no shit” because there was plenty of that too.  You know what.  This may be TMI for some of you.  Do yourself a favor and stop reading, okay.  Before you leave, however, if you could make sure you are a fan of the blog on Facebook and following me on Twitter , that would be amazing!  Aaannnd if the spirit moves you, feel free to scroll down and click the little brown button to your right that says “Top Baby Blogs” like, once everyday.  Please? Come on!  I’ve been sick!  Thanks!

Oh, you’re still reading?  Then you must have an insanely stronger stomach than I’ve had in the past few days.  May God have mercy on your digestive tract.  Anyway, I kept Charlotte home from school Wednesday.  Thursday afternoon when I left work I knew.  I knew the upchuck was bubbling down below.  I called Greyson to go pick up Charlotte because I wasn’t going to make it.  I really just wanted to make it home to a commode or trash can.

No luck.  I lost my lunch in a paper grocery bag at the stoplight.  I had to give myself props for not even having to pull over.  Thankfully it was rush hour and I had lots of time to get it out before the light turned as green as I was.  It really sucked that I had eaten a really healthy lunch.  I had soup and salad.  Why couldn’t this happen on a day I gorged on a greasy burger?

The worst part came when I got home.  I think I may have literally puked my brains out to think that I could pick up that soaking paper bag and transport it into a plastic trash bag.  Yep, you guessed it.

::splat::

The warm remains of my lunch burst through the bag, on to my shoes and our driveway.  It’s a humbling thing to pour pitchers of water to clear chunks of your vomit from under your car.  (The hose didn’t reach around the house.)  The next 12 hours were a toilet-gripping blur.

These are the kinds of things that happen to me folks, sadly I have no shame and tell you all about it on the Internet.  We recovered and made it to the wedding of a family friend and had time to play and blow bubbles this weekend.  I toasted to the good health of the bride and groom when they become parents.