I was feeling so pretty...

This morning was going so well. I had my follow-up appt. for my wisdom teeth @ 9am. I was up at 6:00 to start the morning rush. It is the first day in a week that I've put on make-up and fixed my hair, sorry honey, at least I did bathe several times. I even put on clothes that I couldn't pass off as pajamas. I had on my brand new shirt and even got a "Wow" from Tim as he headed out the door. Abbie and Coop were dressed and fed. Cam was next. So far so good. My goal was to leave the house at 8:00 so I could drop the kids off at Terri's with plenty of time to spare, maybe even stop to pick up some breakfast for everyone on my way over. Just have to grab Cam's passy and blankie and we're off! I can't believe it we're actually going to make it right on time! Pick up Cam to carry him down to the car... what's that noise, wait--what's that warm, moist feeling in my bra. What the @$&# is that smell?!? I can't believe my son just threw up down my shirt. I am completely, absolutely NOT believing this. Can I just wipe it off? NO. Do I even have any more clean shirts? Yes, thank goodness. Where's my other bra (because of the 12 in my drawer I only have 2 that fit). Whew, found it. A quick "Ho" bath, change of clothes and a squirt or 8 of my favorite non-perfume perfume Amazing_Grace and clean up Cam and then we can go. But of course, not a drop on Cam. His blankie saved him.

I'm sure there's a moral in this story somewhere. The cynic in me wants to say:

"Why bother, the world is just waiting for the chance to vomit on you".

But I think this is better:

"Sometimes all it takes to save the day is a blankie"