A Victory of Sorts

Last night Clara threw up three times. Not a lot, but enough that she cried and woke us up, and we changed her and changed the sheets, and worked on getting her back to sleep for the next hour. One of the times Lee also woke up and promptly went into the bathroom and threw up as well, which was either a physical reaction to seeing Clara vomit or a pretty good try at getting the same attention Clara was getting (although realistically I didn't think she could go THAT far). We theorized that Clara had eaten too much sand at the beach (we were unable to keep her little paws less than completely covered in sand while she merrily ran around the beach eating bits of dinner). Or maybe it was a stomach bug, but who gets a stomach bug in July?

So this morning when she woke up (later than usual but chipper and hungry), I fed her a waffle, some banana, and some milk, and then rushed her into the car. About a mile from home I heard Lee say "Mommy, Clara's throwing up!" I looked in the rear view mirror and couldn't believe the mess. We were idling at a traffic light and there was nothing I could do except wait for Lee to follow suit, because she was looking like she was going to have a repeat performance from the previous night as well.

I opened Lee's window and said "Lee, look out the window, breathe the fresh air, and DO NOT look at Clara." I drove home (a much longer mile on the way) listening to Lee and Clara both whimpering, and chanting to Lee "DO NOT look at Clara." But we made it home without Lee vomiting as well.

Despite the cleanup job ahead of me, I was actually quite pleased with the result. A victory of sorts.