Here we are, chilling, after he puked on me. And I'm talking hard-core, projectile vomit. It was so bad that I had to put on a pair of pajama bottoms that belonged to Jess. Poor girl felt so bad too. She said he'd been puking all that morning, but the pediatrician put it down to formula incompatibility since there wasn't a fever.
Strangely enough, he didn't want his mom. He wanted me. So... I held him, played with him, and rocked him to sleep. Dirty Work by Halestorm put him right out. We had the PS3 playing their audio files and that came across. I'd been singing all the others too him, so... I sang that one, too.
Zach was all, you sang Dirty Work to my son? That's so wrong on so many levels. The song is about a younger guy and an older woman. I love the song, but didn't really think about the meaning of it. Heck, I was just singing the kid to sleep. He wasn't upset, it was just, twisted.
So anyway, the night rocks on and we head home. The next night is when I got sick. Mike texted Zach, and wouldn't you know it, he and Jess are sick, too. I'm so grateful it was only a 24 hour virus. Of course, Mike got sick too. His wasn't as bad as mine, thankfully.
We are both better now. I had to work tonight, and it suuuuuucked. I have to work tomorrow night, too, and I'm sure it will suck just as hard.
Oh. It's snowing again. I'm beginning to really dislike that stuff. We're supposed to have more Monday night, I think? And some of the old-timers are prediciting a blizzard. I don't like them, either. I want the beach right now. Is it September yet?
Love to all,
Allie
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