I was totally tempted to name this post "and then I licked my finger..." but I'm hoping that all three of you will actually read this post, so I refrained. Except, now that I've added this, I guess I didn't refrain.
I planned to write some seriously inspiring stuff today about everything I learned at Women of Faith this weekend, but then the plague hit my house. With about an hour left in the Women of Faith program this weekend I got a text from my MIL, who was babysitting, saying that Manning had vommed. I looked at my mom and she confirmed what I thought, I needed to head home. Yes, he was in perfectly capable hands with my RN MIL, but every sick baby just wants their mama. Heck, I'm 25 and contemplate camping out at my parents' house when I'm sick.
I drove home and walked into a mess. Not my house, for once, because my MIL had been working hard cleaning the house and doing laundry for me, but poor Manning was just a mess. He felt awful and I felt awful for him. I proceeded to feed him saltines and gatorade laced with probiotics, and he seemed to be feeling better after a bath. Then he ralphed again, and headed to bed. He slept all night thanks be to God, but woke up with the most disgusting diaper of all time. Literally. sidebar: Have I ever blogged about my dislike of people over-exaggerating and misusing the word literally? It literally makes me insane. Anyway, he seems to be feeling a little bit better today, but I'm still only feeding him saltines and banana baby food. No judgies. I needed to make a grocery trip today, but I'm sure the general public will appreciate me containing the plague within my home.
With the time change my boys both woke up at 7 instead of 8 and I decided the remedy was to impose a two-nap plan today for both boys. After his morning nap, Deacon vommed. Can I just tell you that as bad as formula smells when you're preparing it, this wasn't an unbearable clean-up, so yay for that. We played a bit, and by that I mean both boys watched Cars because they neither one feel very good, both boys went down for afternoon naps, and I decided to go make myself a fried egg sandwich. As I'm adding Miracle Whip to my bread, laying the slice of cheese on, cracking the egg into the pan etc I managed to somehow, without realizing what I'm doing, lick my finger. I guess I thought I got a little bit of Miracle Whip on it. Nope. Raw egg. So, if I don't come down with the plague, I've only got food poisoning and salmonella to worry about. No biggie.
How was your weekend? :)