I shouldn't have said it. Remember me talking about dodging the "puke bullet?" Well it found me. Just like a heat-seeking missile. It was Cam. His congestion got the better of him. I was sound asleep, after folding the laundry (yay me). I'd slept on the couch because the sound of the lambs screaming in my bedroom were not to be countered against.
At 3:30 this morning, he came and got me and told me he was dirty. That's the code talk for puke. NOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Luckily, I'd moved him to his bed and I only had him to mess with. I got him changed and his sheets. While I was changing him, I thought he felt a little warm. So - - I took his temp. Zoiks! 103.4. A little ibuprofen, some apple juice and back to bed.
Luckily, no more barfing. I'm certain it was the congestion. There was nearly more barfing when I was cleaning it up. I'm just sayin'. (**wretch**) I hate that. But - - I was a good wife. I didn't wake Husband up to clean it up. Even though that's the dealio we have. He works today, I don't. Do I score points for that?
In keeping with the lazy, stay at home mother stereotype, I must go. The Young and the Restless is on. Victoria is supposed to wake up today.
Ciao.
No comments:
Post a Comment