Kidding. Seriously, no cheering allowed for projectile vomiting. I am not joking here. Maybe once I'm done with the appletini my neighbor made for me I could joke but not now. The liquor has yet to kick in and the candle is barely masking the eau de vomit wafting through the air.
Brendan started looking puny during lunch. At one point he complained of his back hurting. Considering the amount of monkeying around the boys have done this weekend between wrestling, using both Jason and I as jungle gyms, running around at the park, I wasn't exactly surprised about any aching going on. Because he wasn't feeling up to par, Jason told him he'd stay here instead of going with him on a few errands. Not a problem since he's been fighting a cold for the past couple of days. A nap would do him some good at this point even if he denies any sort of ill feeling within his body.
While Colin waited for Jason I had the boys start putting their laundry away. Colin runs into the bedroom saying Brendan threw up. Brendan's standing there, holding his clean laundry now covered in vomit. I have him toss the clothes to the ground, thinking he only needed to brush his teeth until one look at his face. Off he runs to the bathroom only he doesn't make it in time. All over the door, carpet and wall. Fucking awesome. Have I ever mentioned my sympathy vomiting I have since being pregnant? Yeah especially since I'm the one cleaning up the mess from a barely digested lunch.
At this point he's finished puking and is brushing his teeth while I'm staring at the mess. Staring. Trying not to breathe the fresh smell of puke. Jason starts giggling as I'm kneeling beside the first area, gloved and ready with a roll of paper towels. Brendan told him he feels okay now and still wants to hang out with Dad and Colin.
At least I have a double appletini at my elbow as I type this. Half drunk in it's neon green glow. Anything is better with liquor. Or beer but I wasn't in the mood for beer.
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