Last night I had vela (my turn to sleep in the section with the girls), and I woke up at 4:45 a.m. to someone yelling my name.
"Carrie."
"Carrrrrieeeee."
"Whattttttt."
I now know just what a parent feels like being woken up at all hours of the night. It ain't pleasant.
"My stomach really hurts. I feel like I'm gonna throw up."
Great.
"Well you should get out of bed and go to the bathroom. Come on."
So the sleepy kid and the sleepy me walked to the bathroom, and I held her hair back while she tried to decide just how sick she felt. The entire time, the only thoughts running through my brain were: Please don't throw up in your bed. Please don't throw up on the floor. Please don't throw up on yourself. Please don't throw up on me. Oh God.
Thankfully thankfully thankfully, it was a false alarm. No one got sick. And we got to go back to bed for a little bit longer before today's 5:30 a.m. wake-up time. Phew.
But I had been expecting the absolute worst. So today's lesson: kids puke.
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