The not so smooth nor rhythmic order of our day was suddenly broken when the addition of an hour long Patrol Leader meeting at Boy Scouts deducted the same amount of time from our day and the planned events therein.
We made the changes necessary, and I suddenly found myself the only person in the house with Isaiah and the Tasha-nator. Bethany had a meeting to go to, Mother took the boys to Boy Scouts, and the girls went to visit the Library, and Caleb tagged along.
Things were fine.....for the first hour and a half. I played random Gaelic songs (Anuna & Celtic Woman), along with smatterings of Italian and Spanish (Il Divo) and cooked up the tomato sauce for dinner.
Isaiah ran after the cat and puppy.
Tashanator ran from the baby and at the cat.
The Cat ran for it's life on both fronts.
Eventually, the animal began yelping in it's little manipulative puppy-whine. This usually signaled a heavy bladder, so I unceremoniously dropped her outside, at which point she decided not to do her business but meander about the front lawn, and I with no shoes, coat, etc was obliged to chase her down and just as unceremoniously plop her back inside. She was wise enough to become scarce.
Then, Isaiah got fussy, so I read to him and changed his clothes into sleep clothes, powderd, and diaper changed him. He relaxed on my shoulder, and then promptly vomited out most of his dinner all over my new Daytona Beach sweatshirt. (thanks, Grandmom!)
I got him in the tub and let him soak while I washed out my shirt and his clothing. I then soaped him and got him, once again, changed, powdered, and diapered. He was rather unhappy at this point, and fussed for a time. I got a check-up "how-are-you-doing" call and he calmed down after hearing his mother's voice.
Cat resumed running about and entertained the baby for a time, as the dog had not appeared.
He eventually climbed up on my lap with his blanket, and relaxed, and fell mostly asleep. Holding a sleeping baby is one of the most relaxing things in the world, and I to was drowsing off WHEN.....
*choke*, *cough*, *gurgle*
(me a drowsy....huh?)
As throwup ran down his face into his hair and all over my skirt, the baby was trying to cry but couldn't. Suddenly in full command of my reflexes, I grabbed him, held him sideways so he could breathe and ran to the kitchen sink. I was about 5 inches short when the rest of it came up, but the water was near enough for me to wash his hair and face before grabbing the phone and making a GET-HOME-THIS-INSTANT call.
Ring, ring, (Isaiah: *choke, cough...CRY*) ring, ring, ring, (Isaiah: CCCCCRRRRYYYYYYY) ring..........click (that annoying computer tone "Please leave a message for.....")
Me: *HANG UP*
At this point in time Isaiah is clinging to me screaming because he got woken up with somewhat digested pieces of food and acid coming up his throat, at which point he was run across the house and dumped into a sink and had his face got wiped with soaking wet cloth.
About two seconds later the door slams, and the boys announce their return in Daddy's car. I take a breath, count to three-hundred, and ask Micah not to step in the stuff around the sink. Nathan immediately begins serving himself food, and Micah walks away.
Daddy took initiative and cleaned up the mess in the family room and the trail to the kitchen, as I took the baby to his room and re-changed, powered and soothed him. Walking back into the kitchen, Micah has been commandeered to vacuum up the bigger pieces, and he and daddy ask me to go change my skirt, as it is dripping *fluid*, and pieces of food are falling off onto the floor. I fold it up, and with the baby on my hip, take a trip to get changed, wash out the skirt, put it and my sweater in the washer, and keep the baby away from the clean-up party.
The moment all this is done, who should show up but the mother of the child. The haphazard rhythm resumes as everyone gets food and works on nighttime jobs and finishing school. As dinner is beign cleaned up, the baby begins coughing, (nother gave him a drink), and gets up most of the water along with probbably everything left in his stomach. His mother catches a good bit of it in a used dinner bowl, but much of it was not caught.
Micah immediately adds a qualification to his list-of-things-necessary-in-a-wife (now you know, honey!). "She needs to not get sick when she cleans up throwup.....oh MAN.....I'm getting sick standing here!" The baby is once again changed, and this time put to sleep by his mother. I get clean-up duty, but the stench keeps Micah from cleaning up the dinner table for another 40-ish minutes.
I am currently musing on the "not-so-obvious" qualities that one's brothers appreciate in one, although no one really thinks of them as qualities....and on the probability of reccurance of that item on any man's "future wife" list.