Catch brought Charlotte to visit me at work late yesterday afternoon. It was great. She was in a fantastic mood and she ran around the office smiling and charming the pants off of everyone she met.
After about an hour, Catch took her to a restaurant downstairs for dinner and I went to a work baby shower.I left the shower early claiming that I had to get the boobs home for bedtime (I probably could have stayed another 30 minutes, but eh.)
As I was sitting in stopped traffic, Catch called. It went like this:
Me (happy): Hey!
Charlotte (hysterical): SCREAMING CRYING SCREAMING CRYING
Catch (panicked): GET. HOME. NOW.
Traffic: still stopped
Me: P! A! N! I! C!
After a few minutes I was able to get Catch back on the phone with an explanation…
Charlotte was projectile vomiting all over the house and Catch was literally up to her eyeballs in it and was freaking out. Understandable. No one was going to die though, so I could stop driving like an asshole at least.
By the time I got home, Charlotte was in the bathtub with a glassy-eyed, half-naked Catch huddled over the tub (her puke-covered clothes were piled in the kitchen). Once she got out, she cried until I let her nurse and then we put jammies on and put her to bed so she could sleep peacefully while we zoomed all the way in on the baby monitor to make sure she was still breathing.
As you do.
This morning, the kid was bright eyed and bushy tailed and absolutely 100% FINE. Catch, on the other hand, is scarred for life.
Meanwhile, I am thanking my lucky stars for that baby shower I didn’t even want to go to because I missed every last second of puke-fest. All I had to do was mop the floor. THANK YOU UNIVERSE.
While I was cleaning up, I was texting my mom who said the following: “You threw up on me more times than there are rags in the universe.” I’m sure my payback is coming–just not last night.