...you're in the laundry room at 2:00am picking off chuncks of throw-up from a baby blanket with your bare hands.
Okay, so I admit it wasn't because of Brody that I was up so late. I wasn't exactly looking forward to cleaning up all the vomit, so I found little distractions last night that kept me from having the chance to enter the awful smelling laundry room and do what had to be done. When I finally decided that I was too tired and had to go to bed, I had to face the daunting task head on.
Brody vomited yesterday afternoon on our way to the doctor's office (for a WELL check I must add). He isn't sick, so I'm assuming he just got car sick on the way there. Regardless, my poor baby covered his blanket, fabric toys, and car seat in half-digested blueberries, yogurt, and formula. He looked so pathetic as he whimpered and made little faces of "what is going on?". Mommy-strength took over as I took all the toys and blankets off of him and picked him up out of the seat without even gagging. (I'm not saying I wasn't disgusted though!)
After we returned home from the pediatrician's office, I took everything up stairs to the laundry room where the smell loomed around until I finally found courage at 2:00am. As I stood there picking off chunks of half-digested blueberries, I couldn't help but think: You know you're a mom when...