More Of My Vomiting Morning Because I Know You're Dying To Know But Afraid To Ask

So here's how my morning is shaking out (because I believe in play-by-play blogging). I finished typing my last entry and was just surfing around when I heard those sounds again. I helped Lulu throw up and then went to bed to snuggle her. The next three hours passed in a haze of snatches of sleep, frantically grabbing the bowl and more hauling ass to the bathroom. At 7am, the alarm went off because that's what it's told to do. Fortunately for me, those damn chirping birds had woken me up prior to the alarm. All kinds of good times here.

Earlier in the morning, during out of our bathroom sessions, I had thought that maybe I should try and get some electrolytes in my dearest, devotedest, darlingest daughter (still not remotely mad or frustrated with her because I don't have to play the piano at the Stake Center this afternoon) as maybe her body was off-balance which then causes more vomiting (and really, while I'm grateful, I would like it to stop at some point). I opened our fridge and we are seriously perishable food and cold drink deficient. We have eggs. We have milk. We have cheese. Mmmm...ketchup. Mustard. All good foods on a sick tummy. Amazingly we have no soda. None. Robert is a soda addict; tweeker, if you will. I had decided that giving my daughter Mountain Dew would be worth any harmful side effects from dyes and caffeine if it made her stop vomiting. There wasn't any Mountain Dew to give her. No Dr. Pepper or Diet Pepsi. No Monster drinks or Rock Stars. I swear, my husband was replaced by a pod person when I wasn't looking. Or he drank it all and just hadn't made it to the store....hmm, that subject bears further pondering, but not now.

Anyway, the net result was that at 7am, I was pulling on pants and driving to the store. Both Walmart and Safeway were open at this early hour (really, on a Saturday I think it almost qualifies at Godforsaken). Safeway is only half a mile away while Walmart is all the way across town (1 mile). I opt for Safeway as I don't think I could sustain my accelerator foot for that extra half mile. Safeway is expensive - they ask for your arm before you ever even enter. But I don't care. I'm on a mission: Gatorade for Lulu and chips for me. The moment I walk in the door, there are sugared cereals on sale. Normally I am vigilant as to what my children eat, to a point of analness. Occasionally I do buy the sugared stuff but I force my kids to mix them half and half with plain Cheerios. They agree and then just pick out the good stuff. We're both happy. Today, however, I learned that shopping on 3 hours sleep for me is like shopping drunk; anything goes. Hmmm...sugared cereal...they'll leave me alone all morning so I can sleep...win/win. I grab two boxes. I walk right past those happy boxes of plain Cheerios. Yellow is just too damn cheerful at this hour. I find my chips. I search for Gatorade. There's Propel and Vitamin Water and all sorts of imposters but no Gatorade. Maybe it's by the Juice. I walk to the other end of the store to search for Gatorade. (Damn it, if I'd gone to Walmart I'd have found Gatorade!) No Gatorade by the juice. I walk back across the store and finally settle on Propel water (the rest of the options were all red color based and that's a big fat no-no when purchasing anything for a vomiting child) as I'm sick of walking and refuse to search any further! As I leave the aisle I spot, in those mini coolers at the checkout stand, Gatorade. I put the Propel back. Buy the Gatorade. Ooh, Odwalla Superfood. I need something to get me through my day and I'm out of cupcakes. I try not to notice the price (damned overpriced bastards!) I go to checkout and the woman is nice but watching me as if she expects me to do something rash and she's got her finger on the silent alarm. (She had watched me stop and start - shoes coming to squeaking halts on the floor - and wander back and forth across the store and no doubt heard me muttering "damn it" and "bastards." I also wonder if I was staggering from all that walking.) I take my bags and leave. As I'm walking out the door I happen to glance up; underneath their big sign they have these wicked 2 foot spike all over the place ostensibly to discourage birds from nesting. Bastards.

I come home. My daughter is up and so happy and chipper. My sons think that I am the best mother in the world as they exclaim over criss-crossed Apple Jacks and Chocolate Peanut Butter Pops. "Can I have some?" "Sure," I say. "Can I have some of both?" "Have anything you want." They are ready to nominate me for mother of the year!! I am ready to sell them all for sleep.

Another upside: I got to call the missionaries at 7:15am (take that evil doers!) and inform them of my, ahem, sad situation. The 19-21 year old boy on the other end told me to have a good day. Seriously? I should send my vomiting 4-year-old to them.