Talk about karma. I mention blowing chow briefly in a thread a day or so back…
… and it comes right back to haunt me. For only the second time in her year and a half of existance, little LieuLieu made a call to Unkie Ralph. The first was when she initiated a carpet bombing campaign from the top of the stairs onto the ummm… well… the carpet. This morning she decided to read Daddy her entire Table of Contents. Only it wasn’t on the table.
Poor little thing. I thought I smelled something funny when I went in to get her early this morning from her crib but I figured she’d just made poopie and, since there is a Mrs. Lieu, these things can be ignored briefly until Mommy first notices. I popped a bottle in her mouth and layed back down to get in 5 more minutes of sleep before the rodent race began but Mrs. Lieu shook me and said “Oh my gosh, have you seen LieuLieu’s bed?”
I trudged back across the hall, flick on the light and… holy crap, did somebody give Barbi a paintgun? It’s like she tried to take out G.I. Joe with pukeballs through a screen door. As best I can figure, things started out sedately enough. She awoke, pulled herself up to the crib rail and then launched a steady stream of vomit into an oscillating fan. Then, which ever toy of hers has flippers got kicked on high and Mark Spitz’d the baby carrots and peas onto three out of four walls. Lima beans took the greatest journey, ending up halfway back to Peru.
What instigated this onslaught? It was that little purple phucker, Barney. She saw that Jurassic wannabe yesterday for the first time hidden away in her closet and immediately recoiled in horror. Grandmother & Grandfarter had bought it for her months back but we were waiting to give it to her when she was older and understood that we really did love her. Now, there’s just a purple meanie in her closet that resembles Shelly Winters on Zoloft that’s giving her nightmares and scaring the puke out of her. Enough.
Tomorrow morning the Grampies will have a day similar to mine. They’ll awake happily enough but will soon look questioningly at the foot of the bed, sniff and begin to tug at the duvey. Then they’ll notice it drenched in a plum colored mess and will soon recognize their prized dinoweenie with the “Honk if You Eat Mercury” stare coming from his trunkless head. What’s gonna fill up with a load of sympathy crap? Depends, size M & XL.
And I thought the experience I had about a month ago was pretty bad…
Well, my sister comes home a few weeks ago at around 2:15 AM, reeking of smoke (she’d been to a friend’s birthday party, and that friend of hers smokes a LOT… not her, though)… apparently, she was also rather drunk, as she’d had 5 or 6 glasses of beer… my brother said he couldn’t smell any beer, but could definitely smell the smoke (as could I)
So anyways, I was sort of trying to sleep… when I was jerked back to consciousness by the sound of my brother playing violin at the other end of the hall (as softly as is possible with a violin, anyways)… then I had the rather… interesting… counterpoint to the music of my sister puking in the washroom… needless to say, she was hungover almost all the next day!
At least my sister puked in the garbage can and the toilet… but I guess waking up to what lieu described is worse… Poor baby, though… hope she’s all right now!
Lieu…bravo, man, bravo. I hope Little LieuLieu is all better.
Two weeks ago the Rykid woke me up with, “Dad, I think the power’s out.” My sleepy thoughts were, “Who cares? It’s dark. Dark is good for sleeping. Go lay back down.” Then he added, “I feel sick.”
Normally, an 11-year old can handle finding his own way to the bathroom, but we just recently changed accommodations, and he couldn’t even find the flash light.
I found it and “ushered” him to the bathroom just in time.
Y’know, it’s somehow worse when you have to concentrate and hold a flash light on it while someone revisits their ravioli.
The lights came back on just as he was finishing brushing his teeth.
Yeah, she’s much better now… or at least her top half is. But tummy viruses have crappy compasses and whatever bug was making her feel sick before migrated and has now manifested itself a tad lower as a baby butt howitzer.
The Diaper Genie has taken a few direct hits on this one and will probably recieve a Purple Heart. How my little one is able to permeate dedgum plastic with the baby funk would stump even the chemists at DuPont. Heh heh, “Excuse me while I butt this stump.”
We’re monitoring her closely though. As she got into her little red & yellow Tyco car yesterday, I pulled up next to her and inquired as to whether or not she had any grey poop on.
I hope Little LieuLieu is all better.