Ah, the trifecta

If that's how you even spell it.

Subtitle? My motherhood theme, I saw that coming.

Let's start with tonight's story.

Zoe was what we call a fuss-bucket. Or giant bucket o' fussiness. It disintegrated to her toddling around the house with Robert's pajamas. Robert was not too happy about this, but he was still in the tub when she stole them so he couldn't do much.

Basically, she clutched the pj's, toddled around and cried. If she dropped a piece, she had the top, bottom and Sponge Bob Square Pants underwear, more crying. FINALLY, I had the good sense to put the shirt ON her (much harder to drop that way) and all was calm.

So my baby girl slept in a "I'm a tough DUDE" t-shirt. Classy gal, she is.

And let's not forget, the before bed pig-out of strawberries, blueberry pancakes and those freaky little turkey sticks (which I think are just Vienna sausages relabeled as baby hot dogs.) Maybe she was hungry? Good call, mom.

Then we go on to more fussiness. The fall asleep, wake up crying but not really awake. I assume teething and give her some ibuprofen.

2 am rolls along. I hear more fussing, sort of at least, since I'm mostly asleep. I can tell she's not going back to sleep, so I shuffle into her room...

AND? The smell. Oh, the smell of vomit. Great job mom, why don't you let her cry a little longer so she can smear vomit everywhere! Sheesh. In her hair, ears, all over her face.

I'm no good with vomit. I'm a dry heaver. I'm not a puker. Robert- not a puker. Zoe? A puker. I'm going to have to buy some face masks. (Side note- maybe this should be something on baby registries?)

So I clean her up. Now she is happy as a clam, of course. Feeling great I presume. Change her clothes, change mine. Slather some Johnson's bedtime lotion on to cover any lingering aroma. Start laundry (again, where is the vomit setting on the washing machine? Is that a normal load on hot with an extra rinse? Pre-wash? Stain wash? C'mon, it's the middle of the night, where's my setting?!)

Then we move to the kitchen to sit on the tile floor. Now, Zoe hasn't been sick much. But I know with Robert, there is never just one throw-up. So we're hanging out, waiting for more. And I'm right. Seriously, I'm writing face masks on the list now.

I don't know much about other kids and the whole puking disaster, but from what I can tell, there is a pattern of three, or the trifecta.

1. Throw up in your bed, either right before bed or in the middle of the night. Apparently this is prime puke time.

2. Run around naked gleefully while your mommy chases you with a bucket and towel. Then puke ON her and yourself.

3. Almost fall asleep, then throw up one more time for good measure.

This leads me to my next idea. I have a new baby registry. One that includes the things you REALLY need. Like face masks. And beach towels. Because beach towels double as sheets for puking babies, the soft plush ones are preferred. And they double as blankets. Air freshener, for the wonderful aroma kids leave. And a bottle of tequila, for the middle of the night when mom can't get the smell out of her nose to go back to sleep.