Jagger had baseball practice yesterday then we all headed to pick up uniforms for the team at about 6 followed by a white trash steak dinner at Sizzler.
When I was pregnant with Stephen, I had a Malibu Chicken addiction and every so often I crave it again only to realize that thethings you crave when you are pregnant usually don't taste that great after you have the baby.
Jag was downing his steak then cleaning off Josh and Stephen's salad bar plates as fast as he could.
We came home, watched a little American Idol and Jag chugged a huge bottle of Gatorade. I kept telling him to stop drinking so much because I KNEW it would be a bad night if he didn't stop.
It never fails!
Josh leaves for work at around 9 PM then the Jagger Puke Fest begins around 10 PM (I tried to find "Rocky Horror Picture Show" font for this post but I guess it is called something different in word).
I pride myself on being a step ahead of my boys so after Jag fell asleep I put a water proof mat under his head "just in case". As I lay his head back down on the pillow and he sits up wondering what the heck is going on. Jag often gets a crazy/disoriented look about him when you move him in his sleep or try to wake him up. I didn't think much of it so I laid him back down on the mat.
Seconds later he sits up and I know it's coming...I grab him up off the bed and I am instantly showered in PUKE! Somehow I refrained from throwing Jagger across the room and running like a teenage girl in a Friday The 13th movie.
I take Jag into the bathroom where he showers it with chunks of steak (which I found he doesn't chew properly), french fries and Gatorade. The only spot that escaped the spew fest was the inside of the toilet.
I start the shower, throw Jag in and as any loving mother would do, tell him "I TOLD YOU NOT TO DRINK ALL THAT GATORADE!"
I curse my way down the hall to get a mop wondering how the heck Josh manages to escape these situations.
For a while I weighed the pros and cons of moving vs. cleaning the bathroom...I cried...cursed some more...then contemplated calling in sick the next morning (which I didn't because I would feel guilty).
Until the wee hours of the morning I slept on pins and needles worried that every sound was Jag puking again.
I have no choice but to feed that kid chicken broth and jello until he's able to keep his food down or clean up his own puke.