Before I go around feeling all "super spiritual" and all...

[don't read this if you're eating or easily grossed-out]

... let me just say for the record that there was NO Christ-like response from me when I picked up my vomiting daughter from the table, tried to carry her into the bathroom, slipped in the vomit on the kitchen floor, fell (while still holding her), and wrenched my back and knee trying to twist myself to keep from landing on top of her.

Was my first response to check on my daughter? No.
Was it a "oh sweetie, are you OK" type deal? No again.

The first words out of my mouth were "Dang it, Grace! If you had been HOLDING YOUR BUCKET like Mommy told you to, this would not have happened!"

Then I carried the both of us to the bathroom to wash off.

There you go, ladies and gentlemen! Yet another proud parenting moment brought to you by yours truly...

Grace thankfully was not hurt at all, and we managed to get through the rest of the day with her staying VERY CLOSE to her bucket. She forgave me for my yelling, and seemed to enjoy reminding me about the whole episode many times over: "Mommy, a-member when I fwew up on you? And den you swipped and fell down... and den you gave me a baff..."

Ah. Good times.

Now, if I have to score one moment of this whole ordeal in my favor, it's that I actually did manage to wipe all the disgusting stuff off the floor BEFORE I asked my kids to please clean the floor thoroughly. Bad, bad flashbacks to the time my younger brother threw up, and my mom's parting words to my other brother and I (while escorting said sick kid out of the room) was "clean that up while I take care of him!!" Oh.My.Gosh. It was hands down THE MOST DISGUSTING thing I have ever been asked to do, and I have not let Mom forget that. Ewww. I vowed I would never do that to my kids.

[Sorry, Mom... you're great, but that was disgusting... Really....]


So