This morning, Barrett woke up and seemed to have done so on the wrong side of the crib. I can’t say I totally faulted him. It was his first night without his beloved bink. While he seemed to make it through with flying colors, I am sure he decided that regardless, we were going to pay for his parting with the paci.
He didn’t want breakfast. Just a cup of water. And another. And another.
In my new career’s resolutions, I determined that I would wake up each morning {rather than continue to cozy up with my comforter}, just as I had for work, and get ready for the day. After all, even though I’m not leaving the house, I am still going to work. And, as my science teacher in High School {Mr. Drews} used to say “Failure to prepare is preparing to fail” … and me failing to prepare for the day is just preparing to be stuck in all day. But I digress.
So, freshly bathed and donning clean duds {and admittedly, not just clean … my very fave pair of black preggo pants}, I was ready to take on the day.
And then Barrett barfed on me. For real.
Mostly water of course because he had just downed four glasses faster than his dad in a four by forty contest. But barf, just the same. And I just let him do it because really, what more can you do outside of hold your puking peanut and assure them it’s okay {I knew there was a reason I was a nurses aide back in the day}? Poor kiddo.
8:30 am. Already two sets of clothing for boss and B. Certainly makes one wonder what the day will bring. One thing I do know though, the attire required for this posish does not include dress pants or drycleaned shirts and there is a reason for that. For this momma, it would seem the universe is making a point…barf is the new black.
