I Hate Being a Mom

… When the middle of the night pukies begin. UGH! Why-oh-why-oh-why do kids puke in their beds. Why can’t they be dignified enough to get to the bathroom and do it in the toilet?

I hate cleaning up the puked on bed, while listening to the whimpering child in the bathroom, crying “I don’t wanna be sick…. I don’t wanna be sick.”

I hate trying to calm a puking kid down when all I really want to do is crawl back in bed and pretend that she belongs to someone else.

I hate running the bathtub in the middle of the night to clean said puke off of the sick child.

I hate my washing machine’s agitator. C’mon one twin flat sheet, one twin fitted sheet and one twin mattress pad should not be enough to throw the whole sense of balance off on the dumb machine. {or it should be enough to maintain enough balance in the dumb thing, depending on how you look at the problem… was the washer too full or too empty? Really who cares, it was 2 a.m.}

I hate the feeling of helplessness as I listen to her whimper quietly, “Mommy, I don’t wike being sick.”

I hate trying to calm down the Big One once she has been cleaned off and there is nothing left in her system to expel. And now she feels great and thinks it’s time to play. Again, it was 2 a.m.

I hate lying in bed once I’ve finally gotten the Big One back in bed, and waiting anxiously to see if she is going to puke again or if she will drift off to sleep.

Yes, it was just another exciting Friday night at our house. The Husband is still out of town, so yes, I blame him!