Reese proved me wrong when she projectile vomited all over me. Don't get me wrong, I have dealt with lots of things escaping her mouth. She is a drool/spit-up ace. But this was different. It was smelly. Different smelly. Anyway, I promptly lost my cool and called Dave and made him come home. If I can regain any cool points here, Dave was the one to suggest we take her to the doctor, not me. Cooool as a cucumber. Anyway, since the amount of puke was substantial and Reese was doing a weird cat-whine thing, the doctor sounded like a good idea. Not only did she puke on me, but while we were heading out to the doctor's office she puked on Dave too (!!). So now he's in the club. We like to avoid the word hazing.
This is her cat-whine face in the waiting room. Seriously broke my heart, because she was miserable. The doctor told us it's a little stomach bug going around. We should expect a low-grade temperature, and the world will right itself in 3-5 days. I can handle that.
The fun continues. I was sick a day before. Just a little pukey. Thought I was over it. Then I realized I wasn't. Good thing my hunky esposo was there to take care of Reese and me at our most pathetic. We both just laid in bed cat-whining and drinking pedialyte.
Because we know how to party.
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