Apricot Baby Food...

...looks pretty much the same puked up on your shirt as it does in the little baby food container. Just in case you were wondering. The kids have taken turns fighting stomach bugs over the weekend, with Tate blowing chunks last night (and me blissfully ignorant, sleeping right through it. Don't worry, Eric was with him. It's not like we make the kid sleep in barf.) and Nora shouting soup (baby food, whatever) a couple times today.

The funny thing is, when babies throw up, it seems to barely even faze them. Just a natural part of life, folks. I can just imagine what's going through Nora's head.

"Doo doo doo, let's crawl over here and find that errant piece of paper I've had my eye on. I haven't partaken in a good magazine chew for a few days. Ooh, look, there's Mom's shoelace. Must go grab that and somehow poke myself in the eye. And over here we have Tate...let's just stay away from that. Oooh, and look there's the-

RAAAALLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPHHHHHHHH

Hmmm. I seem to have spewed. Ah well, no time to worry about that. Must crawl over to that quarter on the floor that Mom dropped and try and stuff it in my mouth before she--crap. Caught me."

See? She just pukes and goes on with her day. Today it was a yarf of epic proportions, all on me, of course. You know how you know you're a mom? (In case you weren't quite sure before.) When your kid yammies on you, you don't freak out, you just sit there and wait for the rest of it to come before you bother starting to clean yourself up. And when you do clean up, you always start with the kid. What's a little yack in your hair, down your shirt, wherever? And you get bonus points for the first time you see your kid about to toss cookies, you reach your hands out to grab it. Done it. On Christmas Day at my parents' country club, in the bathroom stall with Tate. That, my friends, was the day I truly became a woman. Nothing like holding fistfuls of regurgitated cottage cheese, fruit, and ham.

This entry will be disgusting for anyone to read who is not the mother of young children. All the moms are reading this going "Yep. A little york from your kid never hurt anyone."

Oh, and on a totally unrelated subject, Eric and I are going to a '90s ghetto rap Christmas party next weekend. Does anyone have any clue what we can do for cheap as outfits?? I know Kriss Kross is already taken, or we'd just throw our clothes on backwards and act like obnoxious 13 year old one-hit wonders. Beyond that, I got nothin'. Help a girl out.