Last night I got to practise the art of bucket holding. Lily came to my bedside around 4am, "Mom, I'm not feewin berry well...I barfed in the toilet..." Oh dear. I hopped out of bed and grabbed her a bucket and then walked her back to her room to tuck her back in. As I'm pulling up her covers, I lean into the bed and ask, "Did you barf anywhere else? Or just the toile....GASP!" As I leaned forward, my foot stepped in something gooey and warm on the floor beside her bed. I peeled off my sock and hopped on one foot to the sink to wash. I came back to her room with some disinfectant and paper towel and got the small pile cleaned up. She DID make it to the toilet for most of it.
Shortly after I had crawled back into bed, Cooper woke... I made him a bottle, grabbed him sleepily out of the crib and tucked him into bed with me. He soon went back to sleep, but not long after became restless. And then in the dark I heard... "Bleeeghhhh". My shirt was soaked in puke, though I did manage to lean him over the bed for the rest of it and save the sheets. I stood him on the floor in the dark and peeled off his jammies, then carried him one armed to the bathroom. I looked at my reflection, curdled milk all down my front and around his mouth and in his ear. We hopped in a shower, got fresh clothes, and then went to check Lily. She had already used her bucket and soon after arriving in her room, Cooper started shifting around uncomfortably again. I just knew...and took advantage of Lily's nearby bucket where he proceeded to puke for the second time. By now it was 5:30am and I hadn't slept in an hour and a half. I dumped and rinsed the bucket for Lily and found a second one for Cooper before heading to the couch with him in hopes of catching at least another few winks of sleep.
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