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.

This may have been my single grossest day of parenthood, ever.  That’s saying a lot as every mother knows childbirth is a messy affair and the newborn days of spit up and diaper blowouts give a new appreciation for pre-baby cleanliness.

This morning Greyson went upstairs to get Charlotte.  I heard his concern over the baby monitor, “Oh no!  Baby!”  When I got upstairs I saw the evil that had been in my child’s body.  Surely it was evil that was living in her digestive tract.  Only the devil’s own brand of awful could produce vomit like that.  It was everywhere.

Greyson scooped her up and put her in the shower right away.  I texted my boss to tell her I needed to take Charlotte to the doctor.  This gastrointestinal eruption came just after a fever and snotty nose on Sunday.  I had a bad feeling.  We got her cleaned up and tried to feed her.  She only wanted a little.

I drove all the way to the Pediatrician’s office to discover that their walk-in availability begins an hour later on Wednesdays.  Seriously!?  It’s probably good that we went back home and very good that she didn’t eat too much for breakfast because of what happened next.

The devil shook my daughters belly once more and she threw up all over the living room.  “Oh my God!  Charlotte!”  I started taking off my shoes so I wouldn’t track vomit all over the house.  In these few seconds my sweet baby walked towards me crying with the most pitiful look I have ever seen.  Just when I thought my heart couldn’t take any more, my kid slid and fell down in a pool of her own puke.

Oh God!  Send an angel to rid my child of this deamon!

I cleaned her and the floor up as fast as I could while holding my breath.  Just as I started breathing, the devil reared his ugly head again.  This time out of my baby’s rear.  I smelled what had to be the foulest odor hell has to offer.  Diaper change.  Would we make it to the doctor’s office without another eruption from either end?!?

We did.  She has an ear infection.  Turns out it’s a virus that led to the bacterial ear infection and if she can keep down antibiotics we should be okay.  I guess I’ll treat this with Amoxicillin instead of an exorcism.

Sleeping. If I did that much puking and pooping, I'd need a nap too.

At lunch today I went to the grocery store because I hate doing things before and after work.  It takes away my family time.  It’s the curse of the working mother.  I count the hours, sometimes the minutes I get to spend with my child each weekday.  Sadly I get about an hour in the morning and 2-3 hours in the evening.  A maximum of 4 hours Monday through Friday.

That leaves me 20 hours of missing my daughter.

The missing reached new heights during my shopping trip.  I loaded my cart, pondering which meats and vegetables would make the most balanced meals for my family.  I looked over at another woman doing the same thing.  She was about my age and had a daughter about Charlotte’s age.  I noticed her engagement ring and wedding band were even similar to mine.

She had on sandals, a freshly washed face, and still-damp hair.  She was even wearing one of those “Stay At Home Rock Star” t-shirts.  Her daughter cooed, smiled and reached out for her mom.  I looked down at my high-heels as my phone bleeped with unanswered emails.  I looked back at this woman and wondered what she had done today.  Did she go for a swim lesson with her daughter?  Is that why her hair is wet?  What is she cooking that I have no time to cook?  I rushed back to the office for a conference call, pretending to ignore this woman laughing with her baby as they casually strolled through the parking lot.

I’m never sad to go back to the office.  I like my job and my coworkers, but only having 4 hours is rough.  When I got to school to pick up Charlotte she greeted me with all her toddler enthusiasm.  Her teachers filled me in on her growth and development that I missed that day.

I have to remind myself that it’s quality time that counts and I can’t compare myself to that other mom.  I’m a Rock Star too.

Disclaimer:  This is not a slam on this t-shirt or the moms who wear them.  I think they’re cute.  I also believe ALL mothers are working mothers.  You can find them here: http://www.stayathomerockstar.bigcartel.com/ 

Have you ever had one of those moments where you can’t believe what you’re looking at?  You can’t believe you are in that moment?  You have to stare and force yourself to remember.

I held up my iPhone to record the video and took pictures with my camera held high.  I wanted to capture the feeling of watching my little sister deliver the student commencement as she received her Master’s degree.  My heart swelled up and I couldn’t stop smiling as I heard her eloquent words.  I’ve always been in awe of her ambition and talent.  She continues to amaze me.  Our whole family was so proud of her and my brother-in-law.  My sister Julie and her husband Kevin got their MBA’s from American University this weekend.

Oh, and my toddler was an angel all weekend even after two 5 hour car trips, multiple evenings at nice restaurants, an entire commencement ceremony, a fever and a runny nose.  I was proud of her too.

My Mother’s Day present was Sunday  morning when she curled up in bed with me and we slept.  I can’t remember the last time I was so at peace.  I hope you all had a happy Graduation Season and Mother’s Day too!

Oh, that’s right.  I have a blog.  My bad.  We’ve been busy.  We’re in Washington D.C. for my sister and brother-in-law’s graduation with their Masters’ Degrees.  We are having an awesome time an I swear I’ll share all our shenanigans when we get home.

In the meantime, take a cue from Charlotte and take time to enjoy your socks, or Daddy’s socks.  Whatever.