Wanna Trade

I know, I know…it’s been a looong time since the last update.  But trust me, I’ve had plenty of good excuses.  Let me just mention one of my last weekends, and I promise you, I’ll trade for your weekend sight unseen.

Friday night and I’m exhausted.  Long week at work and all I want to do is sleep.  Mary Kate has other things planned.  After about the 45th time in our bed for the evening, we’re finally dozing off when suddenly Al hands me Seve, our chihuahua.

“He’s having a seizure.  Take care of him.”  Al says and then drops Seve on my chest, and apparently I’m still sound asleep.  Let me explain, Seve has seizures now and then, and they’re not pretty.  The only thing you can do is hold him until he stops.  But this time it was a bad one, and this time I was sound asleep.
Apparently, Seve lost control of his bladder during this seizure, and managed to do so while he was on top of my chest.  So now it’s 4:30 in the morning and me and my side of the bed are covered in dog pee.  Wonderful. 

We get up, change some of the sheets, and try to go back to bed, but I can’t sleep on my side for obvious reasons, so I head to CB’s room.  Bad move.

Sleeping with CB was like sleeping with Chuck Norris having a seizure.  About 6:00 am and after approximately 45 minutes of sleep, I call it a night and get up for the day.

After a long day, I come home from the bank where I’ve just sold my jeep through craigslist.

“Bad news,” I tell Al.  “I’ve got no way to get to work on Monday.”

“Better news,” Al responds. “We’ve got no where to eat dinner.”  I look around and notice that while I was gone selling my Jeep, Al has sold the kitchen table.

Flash forward a couple of hours and Al is walking through the house carrying a bag full of groceries.  I’m in the floor playing with the girls when CB opens her mouth, and out of the blue, projectile vomits somewhere between 7-8 gallons.  Al sees this and promptly runs out the door screaming.  Trust me when I tell you… that woman does not handle puke well at all.

I’m running back and forth between the bathtub and the den trying to get both CB and the carpet clean, while yelling at Al who is standing about 4 houses over.

I finally get everything cleaned up and CB is settled in my lap in a new pair of jammies.  Everything is fine until, you guessed it, the second wave of puke hits and covers CB, me, and some more of the den floor.  Good times.  This was a sign of things to come, as poor CB went off like this every 45 minutes for the next 24 hours.

I stayed on the couch that night with CB on the floor on an inflatable mattress next to me.  Literally, every 45 minutes the poor girl is up and at it.

Sunday morning rolls around and Daddy is sitting on 46 minutes sleep in 48 hours…more good times.

The two lessons I’ve learned from this:

1)  Inflatable mattresses are easier to clean than carpet.

2)  When you go into one of those minor ER clinics, where the wait times are usually interminable, it’s amazing how fast you get served when you’ve got a child on your lap with a bucket in front of her face.

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