I don't know what is wrong with my small child, but he just wont. Stop. Barfing.
Do you remember that scene from Stand By Me, the one were Lardass barfs all over his pie eating competitors? It was like that around here tonight, except switching out the blueberry pie for mac and cheese. I have never been so thoroughly and completely barfed on as I was tonight.
This started on Wednesday night, and caused me to miss one of days of an already abbreviated work week - I abbreviate Fridays every week thanks to my new, "I'm a mother of two and don't have time for your 40 hours" schedule, and the holiday Monday this week made for a three day week. NOT GOOD ENOUGH, we decided, and took it down to two.
(You have no idea of the scope of the shitstorm that awaits me in the office on Monday morning.)
Corben barfed twice on Wednesday night, four times on Thursday, the last time almost exactly 24 hours after the first. And then yesterday? Nothing. Happy baby, eating whatever he likes. Until this morning, when breakfast was so thoughtfully returned to me. We spent the day snuggling. And then tonight, where an hour of bedtime snuggles and nursing resulted in the most epic vomit fest I've ever had the "privilege" to be a part of.
Luckily we were sitting in the big chair, and NOT on my bed.
This is all a long and overly descriptive way of saying I have no idea whats going on. But I'm starting to get a little worried, and for fear of spending another work day curled up in the big chair (lovely though it may be) we might be toddling off to the doc tomorrow. On a Sunday. That should be fun.
Wish us luck.