This morning, while Mark was showering, I watched the news in bed while giving Amelia her bottle. She craned her neck to look up at me as I took a drink of water from a colourful cup. Then she coughed one of those deep loosen-everything-up kind of morning coughs and spit up on her pajamas. And my night shirt. And the sheets and blanket.
No problem. Cole was a puker. I know the drill.
I grabbed top item from the pile of laundry in the hamper and wiped her face and her PJs and then set her down on the carpet. I then quickly ripped the sheets, mattress cover and blankets from the bed, balled them up into a big tangle of laundry and set them at the top of the stairs to remind me to toss them into the wash later.
I changed Amelia. Then had a shower when Mark got out. As I was getting dressed, he said he'd toss the sheets and blanket into the laundry on his way down to his office.
It wasn't until I was negotiating with Cole, some morning t.v. against getting dressed for the day, that I realized the remote for the t.v. wasn't in the bedroom.