1. Admit your poor choice 2. Do not blame others 3. Say you are sorry…
Again….we interrupt this Ethiopian diatribe to discuss the complexities of life
It is a beautiful fall day….the wind is whippin’ through the trees, the clouds are floating around like huge cotton balls, the smell of burning leaves outside, the smell of vomit inside. Ahhhh, gotta love these little moments of life.
As I was in a peaceful slumber, this morning at 1:30 am, my sweet stud of a husband crawls in bed…cuddles up….with what I thought was the whisperings of sweet nothings in my ear. Alas, it was the whisperings of “Peach just puked in her bed.” He sure does know how to get a girl moving 🙂 Bless his precious pea-pickin’ heart, he took care of the “mess”. He actually shook out the chunks off the blanket, close to the patio and onto the boxwood, out back. He even washed the blanket for me.
I went downstairs to check on said puker and she was pretty pathetic. She had a puke bowl and was looking a bit gross. I asked her if she wanted to come upstairs and sleep on the couch. She wanted too, so we made her a bed and settled in for the night. All was well in the world…everyone sleeping, B headed off to work….then there came a whirlwind in my bedroom…it was Boo. “Catfish just puked up some sort of vegetables in his bed!” Alrighty, then…that’s nasty. Me, I don’t do vomit. I’m a great kind of “after the puke” kind of momma, but the grody stuff…I’d just asoon forego. I walk into his room and there it is, chunky wads of green beans/corn and some other foreign substance. I’m trying not to complete blow chunks, while cleaning this nastiness up.
I gathered what I could and took it out front (I’m an equal opportunity gal, since Peach’s chunks were out back, I thought it would be a good choice to throw Catfish’s chunks out front) and shook out what I could, behind the boxwood. I walk through the house and realized that my feet were sticking to the floor. My sweet husband (I really am thankful), when he cleaned out Peach’s bed, he carried the blanket out, without being ubber careful not to drop vomit droplet’s all down the hall, through the dining room, then back through the kitchen, onto the laundry room floor. Gross isn’t even the word to describe this moment. I mop, mop again and then mop for a third time. I *thought* I had it all cleaned up…that’s what I get for thinking.
Since I couldn’t properly get the chunks out of his bed, by his mattress or on the floor, I had to resort to the vacuum cleaner. Doctored up his bed, sprinkled baking soda on the mattress and the carpet and turned around to see Bug, green…not so much with envy, either. She was blowing chunks, as well. I gave her and D some phenergan and they laid back down. Boo was good, so I let him play the wii while I laid back down. He took the dogs out and said that the “cold air made his belly hurt.” UGH. I had the 4 sicklys, upstairs resting and the one well one, we cleaned house and took care of business.
She was mopping, again..and I went out to check the chickens. The 4 hens and Big Red rooster were waiting for their breakfast and some fresh water. I obliged, with joy. I do enjoy my chickens. The boxes that my kids and neighbors made were ready for some wood chips, so I brought them into the bedroom/bathroom section of our coop. There he was, Nugget aka Einstein (depending on the kid who is doing the talking)….he was perched way up top of some shelves. I got to looking at him and realized that something was different…he was totally missing an eyeball. He has always been the small one of the bunch and the hens didn’t care for him, very much, so I’m guessing that they pecked pecked pecked on him.
All of this while I’m STILL hoping and praying that immigration approves us, but that is a whole nother story….today is strictly vomit and one eyed roosters.
The fun never ends, does it….