Hakuna Matata

I had to go to Target today. Yes, HAD to... we needed diapers and about $90 worth of... um. Whatever, we needed diapers. But after the craptastic weekend I was determined to not leave the house without a shower. A real shower. You know, the kind where you get to shave your legs and use conditioner. So I waited until about 9:45am when The Girl was getting worn out and The Boy was ready for his 9th snack of the morning. So I stuck The Girl in the pack and play (praying that she didn't decide to finally throw herself out of it and escape), put The Boy on the couch and turned on our new Sprout channel that The Boy is always whinning to watch. BTW, that is the strangest channel ever, nothing lasts for more than 12 minutes. I can't tell if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

Anyway, I headed upstairs and hopped in the shower and started doing my thing, making a mental list of the items needed at the store. Then I hear this weird music and The Boy opens the door yelling "Mommy? Are you still in the shower??" I yelled back that yes I was and to please close the door and go watch tv. He then say excitedly "But Mommy, I just brought you some music to relax!" And again, I hear this music. Last year for Christmas, their Titi (what we call his Godmother) bought him a book with shortened versions of disney movies... Nemo, 101 Dalmations, Jungle Book and The Lion King. Along with it was this 2 button "CD player" that played plastic 3 inch CD's with instrumental muzak versions of the popular songs. For my showering pleasure, The Boy had selected "The Lion King" - and had somehow gotten it to loop the first song over and over and over and over. By the time I said "thanks but no thanks" he was long gone.

I'm not quite sure what happened after that. The next thing I know I am rinsing off my blue scrubby loofah thing and for the life of me, I can't remember if I shaved my armpits or even washed my lady bits. I think I zoned out - or fell asleep standing up for 3 minutes! (And yes, as it turns out I had washed and shaved...) So I guess I owe The Boy a bit of Thanks. It was a good shower. And when I went downstairs, The Girl was still confined.

Little did I know that the "good day" we were all having would end with The Girl projectile vomiting all over the table at IHop during dinner. I cleaned her up as best as I could, left a fat tip and NASCARed my way home. And it was during those 5 minutes that I was in the bathroom, giving my daughter a whore bath so she didn't smell like a junkie during detox, that I realized something very important:
I hate vomit.

Adios, people.