that time claire threw up in my bed

1. Bring Claire back to her bedroom 2 times. On the 3rd attempt decide to let her snuggle. 

2. Fall asleep before bringing her back to bed. Wake up at 1am to the sound of vomit.

3. Carry her to the kitchen (what was I thinking?!?) where she proceeds to vomit again.

4. Inform Justin that there is a little bit of puke on the bed.

5. Justin questions my math skills. I start to inform him that in 8th grade my class was the number one class in the state of Minnesota, but remember that was for reading, not math. Start to tell him how the grad standards projects weren't focused on volume, but I could make a scale model of our bedroom with nothing but cardstock and tape. Feel a tinge of annoyance that points were deducted because my nightstand wasn't next to the bed. Regret not calling calling it a credenza or accent table.

6. Set up shop on the couch with Claire.

7. Alarm goes off way too early. Consider skipping washing my hair for an extra 30 minutes of sleep, but remember that it is already 3rd day hair and may or may not have vomit in it. And I'm participating in an interview today.

8. Consider telling Justin we should by a gas water heater, but decide against it. Try not to grumble during my lukewarm shower.

9. Sneak Easter candy from the girls' stash into my lunch bag. Feel grateful that Grandma Helen told me many years ago that Lutherans don't give things up for lent (I briefly considered giving up Oreos, which at the time accounted for about 50% of my caloric intake. The rest was split between ham sandwiches and pizza).

10. If couches are in most offices at your workplace does that mean that napping during the workday is acceptable? Ponder this thought for a few moments but conclude that it is frowned upon. Count down the hours until it is socially acceptable to have my first Cadbury egg (which, for reference, is 10).