Dear Jay-seus, someone help me through this day.

I am not disgusted by too many things, but wookies and vomit are my vices. I’d rather lick the side of my toilet bowl then deal with either of them. That might be an over exaggeration, but it’s not far from the truth. I didn’t think there was truly anything worse then seeing someone throw up. But there is. Oh, is there ever. A toddler that just doesn’t know what to do when they barf.

Carter has his first real stomach bug. Bastard stomach bug has finally reached our house. Thanks for nothing! Last night while visiting my parents Carter was running and playing, chasing their dog then stopped dead in his tracks. and. puked. Projectile vomit everywhere. I froze. I couldn’t react (or didn’t want to), I just turned and walked away; Mike ended up having to clean him while my dad cleaned the floor.
Poor kid was scared shitless since he had no idea what was happening to him, and all I could picture was that scene from Big Daddy when “Frankenstein” was doing the Kangaroo Dance and pukes everywhere. My initial reaction was the same as “Sonny’s” - cover the puke with newspaper and walk away. I so could have done that.

After three expulsions of fluids and dinner, I figured that we may have overstayed our welcome and headed home.

This morning has been more of the same. Except I have to take care of it all by myself. *gag* Thinking that he may be a little better I gave him a bottle when he woke. That lasted all of 45 minutes before it was all over me and the blanket we had to protect the couch as we cuddled. Fucking sick. Oh so fuckin’ gross. I started to gag as I rushed him to the kitchen ceramic floor. All I could think about was myself, how horrible of a mother am I? Just don’t get more on me, please, don’t. get. more. on. me.
Breakfast consisted of the norm - crackers and water because that’s all I ever give my child. But those came back up too. Then another time… after a bath he’s in bed. Hopefully for a LONG time; just sleep it off.

I can’t stomach anything now from the lurking aroma of vomit. I’ve laid down the newspaper to soak up it up until Mike comes home, and have candles going in ever corner of the house but they have yet to de-funk the odour. I wanna curl up in the fetal position and hide. I don’t want to do this anymore!

And to top it all off, I smell like something the neighbours cat (because mine’s a chicken shit) puked up since I can’t have a shower yet as they’re working on my crack(ed) pipe. FUCK! Make. this. day. end!