Hey, you're not supposed to do that!

Of our two boys Grant is the puker. If the flu is going around, he's sure to get it and pyrotechnics will ensue. He gets sick at least four times a year and never once has Heath thrown up... until last night. The poor guy seems to be getting in some molars. He's chewing on everything in sight. So last night when Heath was having trouble sleeping I assumed that it was the teeth. After a couple of trips into comfort him, I decided it was time to break out the Tylenol and hope that it gave him some relief. Heath happily took the medicine but it either didn't agree with him (or maybe it was the chicken that I was so happy he ate at lunch that didn't sit well) because on my next trip into Heath's room he got spectacularly sick.

Did I mention that Glayde is out of town this week? Yep, I got to comfort and clean up our latest puke-a-saurus on my own.... three times. The whole effort works much better with a team to do the work but some how the cats just didn't want to get in on this action. *sigh*

I've come to the conclusion that parenthood is just a very messy sport. It starts off messy... morning sickness, amniotic fluid, transition, delivery, after birth... it's all messy. Obviously the end between bits are messy. There's mud pies, food items ground into your carpet, shoes full of sand, puking in the middle of the night and many more than I can count. I'm not sure that there's a real end in sight but I'm sure that it will be messy.

Oh by the way... no food experiments are scheduled today for Heath.