I woke up to the sound.
The , "in the back of my mind , buried, familiar , but don't want to go there" impelling sounds of...you guessed it...puking!
Visions of earlier days, danced in my head , watching my offspring projectile vomit across the room. If I wasn't so disgusted, I would be impressed by the aim!
I watched in an overwhelmed state, tired, and wondering if this was a dream.
The ranced smell quickly aroused me, bringing me focused and ready for battle.
My husband was no help as he was theatrically making it clear that he would be of no use.
Oh the memories.
Last night I was really trying to reach my now grown daughter . I really was. The walk to her room upstairs seemed especially long. I was just being cautiously optimistic that I would not find a mess when I got to her! Whew! Relief. She made it to the bathroom, but the mother instinct started, as my child was sick.
I get to pamper this grown up child all day.
The tray is full with chicken soup, crackers, 7up, her favorite toast, complete with a fancy napkin!
She probably won't admit it, but I think she secretly is enjoying the consideration and being tucked in under the warm covers. I wonder if she would let me read her a story?!