As if Sunday's aren't hard enough...

When Armando sings with the praise team, like today, Sofi and I drive separately so we're not there so early. Our morning started off as it usually does, at 5:30am. By 7am, everyone has had breakfast, I've cleaned the kitchen, Armando is getting ready to leave and I'm reading about Dora's birthday party for the 500th time (she brings that book to me EVERY morning after breakfast). About 10 minutes before I'm ready to load up the car, Sofia THREW UP!! Her first actual vomit. To clarify, this was not baby spit-up. It was her throwing-up. I was carrying her at the time, so of course it was on both of us. I just froze. Not missing a beat, she started rubbing it on her belly and on my arms, just babbling away like "OOh! Where did this cool stuff come from?". I had to make a conscious decision NOT to throw up myself, and no gagging allowed, no matter how intense the reflex was at the sight and smell. I suddenly have a new appreciation for my mom. I know my Dad gets sick at the least sign of vomit, so poor Mom was obviously left to fend for herself when any of us got sick. Take a moment today to contemplate the nastiness of 'puke' and then thank your mother for cleaning it up for you all those times.