Remember when I wrote that touching Maya’s baby teeth is grosser than cleaning vomit? Well fate decided to test that little statement.
We were at the library when Maya said the dreaded words, “Mama, my tummy hurts. I think I need to go to the doctor.”
That’s all it took to put the fear of God in me. I packed up Maya and drove home faster than Google can pull up results for “how to clean vomit off leather seats.” (About 53,900 results in 0.15 seconds in case you’re interested).
I settled Maya in on the sofa and got our environment vomit-ready:
- I braided Maya’s hair to minimize the barf-in-hair quotient.
- I covered the couch with Maya’s Dora blanket.
- I covered the wood floor with old towels.
- After much debate I chose and strategically placed the XXL barf bucket (we have 2 sizes) next to Maya’s head.
Despite my preparations, vomit still made its way…everywhere. So while I hauled her dirty clothes into the laundry room, wiped the floor clean of things I’d rather forget, and dragged Maya into the shower (both of us gagging all the way) Ali remained on high alert too.
He whipped out his laptop and take-out containers of butternut squash soup and chicken salad, and picked up where he left off…typing away. All in a vomit-free environment of course.
Must be nice to be him, right?