It's not just rainbows and unicorns around here...

There's vomit too!

So last week, I picked my kids up from pre-school (called that only because it sounds sooo much better than day-care for a semi-working-stay-at-home-mom) and we went to the grocery store (which is probably the most fun thing I can think to do with two small children. Woot. Woot.).

A small sample of our trip...

Kid 1: Maaamaaa, I want some water.
Me: I'm sorry?
Kid 1: MAAAMAAA...may I have some water, PLEASE?
Me: Yes, just let me finish and I'll get you some in the check-out line.

And repeat.

FINALLY, we finished and I got the poor, dessicated child a bottle of water. He promptly glugged it down, in between making "bubble noises" (not spitting, he assured me) and pretending to share with his sister. After my THIRD request for him to just DRINK THE D@MN THING INSTEAD OF BLOWING INTO IT...I turned to him and said/shrieked/whatever "What are you doing?".

He promptly threw up; apparently that particular round of blowing was actually gagging (and yes, I am currently accepting Mother of the Year noms).

So I got us home as fast as I could, unloaded both kids from the car, and told Kid 2 to IMMEDIATELY go potty (if you'll recall...we are potty-training her and its a bit touch and go), while I ushered Kid 1 into my shower so I could clean him off.

Kid 1 is fairly calm, with the exception that he doesn't want to shower, he wants to rinse in the tub..so now there are vomit clothes in the shower stall AND vomit clothes in the tub.
Kid 2 is quiet for all of about 3.6 seconds and then she begins to SCREAM HER HEAD OFF. Awesome.

APPARENTLY, I need to be VERY CLEAR about the order one is to use for going potty. APPARENTLY, it seems as if the washing hands portion of the potty trip should happen BEFORE the going potty portion. So she climbed on the stool. And promptly peed all over the floor.
Double Awesome.

I now have groceries slowly melting in the car, vomit all over my backseat, shower and tub, and pee all over the other bathroom floor. Oh...and the dog is barking anxiously to get out of her crate.

Sometimes I wish I lived in the sixties. A lovely time. A time of youth and innocence and, most importantly, the afternoon cocktail.