Mitzi Said I Should Write This One Down...

and who am I to deny her?

This is another anecdote that hasn't made it to my blank journal, only this one serves to balance the "life-is-all-sparkles-and-sugar-and-spice." Be thankful there are no pictures.

Title: The Three-Layer Tower of Misery
Setting: Our narrow car-home
Date: three days after we moved in
Time: 3:00 a.m.
Moral of the Tale: Vomit is Gross, Mama is Mean, and It's a Pain to Clean without Running Water

I was awakened from a deep sleep by Mildred's frantic calls, and immediately swiped around for the flashlight, knocking things over in the attempt to find it. Stumbling to the bedroom, I snarled as I tripped over unpacked boxes, and upon reaching Millie, I discovered that she had It-- the dreaded stomach bug-- in plentiful measure.

Mildred was pitiful, but her moans were drowned out by Susannah's shrieks below. "WHAAAT'S that SMEEEELL, Mama? What's that SMEEEELL?" she wailed over and over and over again. Simultaneously trying to comfort Mildred and shush Susannah, I finally lost patience and snapped, "Your sister Millie is SICK and SAD and YOU NEED TO BE QUIET!!!!!"

Mometarily quelled by my outburst, Susannah quieted, and I continued to murmur soft, meaningless comfort to Mildred. It wasn't until after I stripped Millie and her bed that I discovered the whimpering Susannah had good reason to whimper. Not only had Mildred emptied the contents of her belly on herself and her own bed, but she had also soaked the still-slumbering Annika's bed below, AND-- you guessed it-- Susannah's nightgown, bedding, hair, and face.

I felt like the cad I was and after stripping Susannah to her skivvies, I led them both outside in the cold night to pour gallon jugs of water over their heads.

It was a scene straight out of Little House in the Big Woods.
Charming, heartfelt, and idyllic.

The End.