Hallmark, Take Note

I need a card that says "Sorry my little boy puked on your stuff." I guess I could always make my own, but I could have used two in the last four days - three if you think I could send one to myself.

We thought we had Harry's "allergies" under control with an evening dose of children's generic Zyrtec, but a trip out of town this weekend knocked us on our butts. Harry's nose is a faucet, he has little red racoon eyes, and he's coughing all night long. This coughing, which is due to postnasal drainage, invariably leads to puking. The allergies haven't been officially diagnosed and we've had no testing done. The advice to try medication came from the charge nurse at the pediatrician's office, and all will be reviewed at Harry's upcoming physical.

He spit up just a little bit on Saturday night at my grandmother's house, but at least I'd had the foresight to pack Harry's own pillow. The tiniest bit may have gotten on the sheets, but since he peed out his diaper, we were washing those sheets anyway.

Harry threw up twice last night, sometime around 11:30 and again around 4, which means I did two loads of laundry before the sun was even up this morning. Productive, no? Being dead tired, I dropped Harry off at my parents' house today so I could work, runs errands, and put Harry's bed back together. And, of course, Harry threw up all over my mom's bedspread after his nap and then again after his milk this afternoon.

So, as you can see, I really need some of those cards. . .