HELLO! In a recent post I described our completely insane weekend of birthday parties and soccer and swimming (OH MY). And that after jumping our faces of at Pump it Up for two hours, eating several pieces of pizza and a sizable piece of birthday cake (C and W), we went home to "eat dinner" at seven PM then immediately put the kids to bed BECAUSE IT WAS A SCHOOL NIGHT.
Ryan and I collapsed on the couch together after that, enjoying the first face to face conversation we'd had in days that did not involve a child changing clothes in the back of a minivan. We watched Scandal, we relaxed. It was a lovely evening. We were exhausted but happy and content after a fun weekend.
Around eleven I said goodnight and crept upstairs to our room. Because I think the overhead light makes our room look like a prison, I never turn it on, and instead walked barefoot across the room towards the lamp on my bedside table.
Halfway across the room, immediately next to my side of the bed, I stepped in something cold and slimy.
My reaction was strangely calm and measured as I hopped into the bathroom to turn on the light and see what on earth was going on. Even more strange, my brain at this point was still allowing for the possibility that whatever I had stepped in was not disgusting! Like, maybe someone spilled mint chocolate chip ice cream all over the floor! Maybe it's a big plate of pancakes with syrup!
With light came truth. And gagging.
Because someone had blown some SERIOUS CHUNKS all over my bedroom floor.
And I had STEPPED IN IT.
I summoned Ryan in the calmest voice possible then the two of stood side by side staring at it, each waiting for the other to speak first. I mean, how does one attack a five foot diameter pool of vomit on carpet?
I helpfully brought two old towels from the linen closet and then took my book downstairs.
Several minutes later Ryan came downstairs to retrieve the shopvac and our arsenal of Resolve Pet Stain products.
In an hour the carpet was good as new except for the hurl smell which was mitigated by sleeping with the windows open and fan on high.
We assumed that Charley had done it since we had also found him in our bed directly adjacent to the puke, so the next morning I let him sleep late. When I went into their room to get Wes's uniform he woke up talking completely normally and asked me why I hadn't woken him up.
"Because you're sick, you can stay home today."
"I'm not sick."
"You threw up last night so you have to stay home today."
"I didn't throw up! I want to go to school!"
So he went to school. Mostly because I was certain that the throwup was caused by birthday party overindulgence and not a virus. Wes also denied throwing up in our room that night and James was already asleep when it happened. IT IS AN UNSOLVED MYSTERY. An unsolved mystery that STILL STINKS.
The following night we were sitting in bed talking. All was quiet from the kid rooms. Until we heard a strange water sound. It sounded like someone was pouring a pitcher of water out. It was SO LOUD. Ryan thought there was something terribly wrong with the plumbing. He jumped out of bed and ran toward the sound. The sound continued as Ryan said softly "Hey, buddy, are you asleep?"
Because there was a kid STANDING IN THE HALLWAY PEEING ON THE FLOOR.
We cleaned him and the carpet up and put him back to bed where he slept all night, waking with NO MEMORY OF THE PEEING. The only ones who remember are me, Ryan, and our poor carpet.
I feel like we should nail some Greek letters to the front door.