When I was planning a family, I gave a lot of thought to what my kids would be like, what things they would need, what we would do together - you know, all the happy, idyllic thoughts you have about children and what your life would be like with them.
It never once occurred to me that vomit would play such a central role in my life as a mother.
Now, I know I've mentioned vomit before, on more than one occasion. This is probably due to the fact that vomit figures so prominently. It boggles my mind that in all my planning, it never once entered my mind that I would have to get up in the middle of the night and scrape incredible yuckiness off a small child's sheets, pillow, arms, and anything else they happened to plant their hands on.
Then, of course, those incredibly lovely sheets, blankets, pillows, etc. need to be washed. Which for me involves a trek down to the basement laundry room, as I'm on the 4th floor of a walk-up building. We aren't supposed to do laundry at night, so I've developed a system (isn't is sad that this has happened enough times that I have developed a SYSTEM!!) and just stuff all the offending items in plastic garbage bags, seal them up, and wait for morning,
This morning, as all the washers are full, I am sorely tempted to actually pitch these bags into the garbage, but I think my cheapness gene wins over my disgusted gene on this one...