This was going to be a profound post

Today was going to be a discussion of the economic value of motherhood. It was to be a profound and enlightened topic. Look for said discussion later this week.

Instead, I was puked on. Big time. Massive puke. Down the cleavage...all over nursing camisole and nice pants. All over Elle...head to toe.

I trotted up stairs baby in arms to clean her up first. Every time I tried to wipe her off or remove a piece of puke covered clothing (both socks included) I dripped vomit back onto her. I modified my original plan to (a) clean baby, (b) clean mommy and (c) clean chair and floor at vomit site. The new plan was to get me clean first. I threw a towel on the bathroom floor over her bath tub and laid her there with a few toys to play (no water, just a baby containment device for safety and ease of cleaning). Then I jumped in the shower...mostly dressed. Stripped in the shower, washed my hair (also puked) fast and wrapped my gross clothing in a big towel. I stripped Elle in her tub, wrapped her clothes in the same puke towel she was laying on and gave her a bath. Got her dressed. Got her smiling. Cleaned the chair and floor. Now I can go on to proving my worth for the rest of the day.

I big fat pukey hug out there to all the moms (*and dads and grandparents and aunties and uncles and caretakers) who have been puked on and lived to tell about it...with a smiling baby in tow.