The Clean Up Begins

I knew it was too good to be true. A. was sick but quietly resting on the couch. The cleaning ladies come and we gotta go. Something about watching someone else clean up after me makes me feel guilty, kinda like when you get your nails done by an immigrant of Asian or Russian descent. Just guilty.

So we ran some errands. I continuously asked A. how she was feeling. "Are you going to throw up?" "Do you have to poop?" The answer was always no. By the end of our errands, she began getting some color in her cheeks and lips. She finally wanted to eat. We go through the drive thru, cuz I need some grease. I am not getting her anything. She should have bread and sprite. Well apparently this was not a good choice. As I am paying the lady, A. just starts puking and puking and puking. All over the car, the car seat and herself. We pull over to the parking lot and I pull her out. She's not puking anymore. I try to clean her up but I have no towels or wipes or wet ones. I take off her clothes and throw them in the trunk. She says,"I'm feeling better!" My kids never puke in the house, in the toilet or even on the carpet. JUST THE CAR!!!!

We pull up at the house and the ladies are still there. We sneak in the back and as I round the corner of the backyard I see that they have let the dog out, who has in turn dumped over the trash can, full of trash. He is ravaging it like a raccoon. I just know that he is going to be the next one to puke. So, now I have to clean my daughter, my car, my yard and the clothes. So much for saving time with a cleaning crew. Did I mention that I just want to go to bed?