Barfing Machine

Last night C-man called for me to lay in bed with him. I did. About 5 minutes later, he started to barf. After catching the majority of it in my hand, I still had some cleanup work to do - on both of us and the bed. So I called for Beerman. And then I called again... and again, until finally I shouted his name as loud as I could. I got a "Huh?" "HELP!" I yelled. I left to go clean up C-man, while Beerman laid there befuddled, waiting for an explanation of just what I needed. Um, good thing it wasn't an emergency, because we'd all have been dead. A pretty good rule of thumb - if your wife yells "Help!" at 3 a.m., something is clearly really wrong. So I cleaned him up, rocked C-man back to sleep, and went back to bed myself. This morning C-man didn't have a fever, so off to daycare he went. Yes, the mother of the year award is mine - all mine! I'm still coughing up a lung, and now with no sleep, I'm totally worthless at work. Good thing I don't have a meeting with my SVP and EVP this afternoon. Yikes!