Some days the posts will be nothing more than a reason for you to say, “hey, I guess my day wasn’t that bad”…

6:59 am: Wake up children. Already nine minutes behind schedule. Daily struggle ensues.

7:28 am: Arrive to daycare to drop off Josie. Realize I forgot to pack snacks for Easton. Refuse to go all the way back home, so Easton gets to pick two snacks at the gas station (Father Of The Year Award). He cannot understand why the candy aisle is not a viable source of options.

7:42 am: Easton has been dropped off. It occurs to me that one of his snacks contains peanut butter, violating the schools nut-free classroom policy.  

7:55 am: Arrive to work, email Easton’s teacher explaining the severity of my peanut butter fail and apologizing for any nut related emergency health situations I may have caused.

8:00 am to 4:00pm: Work (I have to say that because my boss reads these articles).

4:30 pm: Pick up Easton. He complains of a stomach ache. He has also left his lunchbox in his classroom for the second day in a row. The room is locked. He shows little remorse.

4:30 am: Leaving Easton’s school parking lot. He suddenly remembers he has forgotten two stuffed animals on the table in After School Care. I stop the truck and ask him if these are the same stuffed animals I explicitly told him not to bring to school that morning. He says “yes”. He shows little remorse. I don’t think he knows what “explicitly” means yet. I now have to check his backpack every morning because my son is a smuggler. We retrieve the smuggled goods.

4:50 pm: Josie has been picked up. We arrive home. Easton continues to complain of a stomach ache. I’m suspicious it is a ploy to watch more TV. I give him a puke bowl anyway.

5:20 pm: Dinner time. Easton does not want to eat. This is unusual.

6:25 pm: Easton says he’s feeling better. We all go downstairs to play.

6:31 pm: Easton excuses himself to use the bathroom upstairs.

6:33 pm: Easton reappears covered in vomit and a bewildered look. We cautiously go upstairs. The kitchen is ground zero. The spray pattern would suggest he was playing “helicopter” when the incident occurred. The smell is unbearable.

6:40 pm to 7:20pm: Easton in the bathtub. I clean. Josie watches from a safe distance, asking questions about the process. Answering her questions forces me to breath. She laughs when I gag.

7:45 pm: Bedtime routine.

8:45 pm: Write blog post / Relive trauma.

9:25 pm: Post article to blog, Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. Spend remaining awake time refreshing WordPress app to see how many hits the site has received.

10:00 pm: Slip into unconsciousness while silently cursing those that haven’t followed the blog.

*Additions

11:00 pm: Awoken by Easton. He has vomited all over his bed, rendering it unusable for the night. He sets up shop in our room. I clean for another 15 minutes.

12:10 am: More vomiting. This time he actually does it into the puke bowl. What a genius idea.

12:46 am: Not quite dry heaving. More like “damp-heaving” or a dusting of vomit.

12:50 am to 6:05am: Easton sleeps fitfully. He thrashes about like a sleeping dog. I think he’s dream about chasing squirrels.

6:06 am: Easton wakes up, says he feels fine. Wants eggs and toast. I keep the puke bucket handy.