Warning: If you do not like to read about vomit, then look away.
We had a rare and wonderful evening last night where everything ran smoothly; those of you with kids know the kind. We got home from church and played outside, happily came in and happily took a bath, then happily read 3, 4, 5 (who's counting) stories, and happily got in bed for "prayers and Jesus songs" by 8:30. Did you note all the "happilys"? To top is off, we were asleep by 9:30!! I should have known something was up.
Then the the bomb dropped, at 12:45 a.m. to be exact. We were awakened by a very distinctive screaming noise that could only mean one thing- Matt threw up. This is one of the parenting things that Rich and I hate the most. Not because it is gross but because you feel so helpless and sorry for your child. There was a point in the night when Matt was just looking at me confused, as if asking "why can't you make this stop?" I felt like the world's worst parent at that moment.
The ordeal lasted until about 2:15 and then we finally fell asleep. Well, at least until around 3:30 because Matt woke up and decided he needed to get up and wander around his room. I got him back asleep but was awakened at 5, not by Matt but the phone.
With all this said, it was a long and rough night but Matt is much better. By 10 a.m., you wouldn't have guessed he was sick. Superman was back!
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