I love you. Let me catch that.

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Natural disasters, house fires, and anything starring Carrot Top blaring from the television when you fell asleep watching something else aside, what would you consider to be the WORST thing to wake up to? My answer?

I’ll give you a hint. It smells like rotten macaroni and cheese and rhymes with “comet”.

Please kids. Wake me up in any other fashion. Tap on my arm seconds after I fall asleep and ask for a glass of water. Yell for me when I’m in the middle of a dream that I’m under the stars in the back Tim Riggin’s pick up halfway around 2nd that you “HAVE TO PEE!”. Hell, grab two pots and bang them 2 inches from my god damn face but PLEASE DON’T WAKE ME UP BY GOING LINDA BLAIR ALL UP IN YOUR BED.

It’s traumatic. I know it is for you too, but honey, you’re the one who actually tried to lay back down IN IT AND GO BACK TO SLEEP while I shrieked “OH GOD! NO! AND I JUST WASHED YOUR HAIR!”.

I have a little more finesse in dealing with the pukes when I’m not jolted out of bed by its occurrence. Last winter, both kids and I had it and while I ALWAYS say 2 kids is 500% more kids than 1, when you’re all puking, it’s really exponential. Fortunately, some sort of evolutionary preservation instinct kicked in and mine only lasted a few hours in the middle of the night while the little one improved and the big one perfected his aim. Bobby never gets sick, so I’m convinced he’s a cyborg but I’m not complaining. I may even be jealous, but at least there’s someone to switch over the laundry and make toast.

I wonder if anyone on Etsy stitches samplers that say “The family that spews together, stays together.” Christmas treasury!

When you’re with child, people who think they are poetic and wise like to say semi worthless and generic things like, “you won’t know the meaning of love until you hold that baby in your arms”. Blah, blah, what the crap does that even mean? I have a better stick with which to measure this new meaning of love that will make sense to a previously childless individual.

Picture yourself on public transit. You are sitting next to someone that begins to retch. How fast do you go from sitting comfortably perusing Facebook to oh, say SITTING IN THE DRIVERS LAP? 2.2 seconds? Now imagine instead, that person you’re sitting next to is your child. “Mommy!”, they yell out, a look of concern washing over their now colorless face. You know in an instant what is about to happen and do the thing that your brain is now hardwired to elect as the best course of action: YOU CUP YOUR HANDS AND THRUST THEM UNDER THEIR CHIN. You attempt to CATCH IT. Seriously. You have no real plans of what to do next, because clearly you haven’t thought this through. Seconds past barfing is as far as you got. But you can feel the love dripping through your fingers, right?

Since the winter is just beginning and we’ve already suffered one round each, I’m sending these people to bed with buckets every night. UNTIL MAY.

If this winter is just going to be a puking round robin, I'm putting a space heater in the shed and moving in. Hope the wifi reaches!

If this winter is just going to be a puking round robin, I’m putting a space heater in the shed and moving in. Hope the wifi reaches!


amateur comedian, professional bullshitter. will take pay in baked goods once already rich.