Undone by an apple core

Nothing lasts forever (Both/And: Reprise)

The morning my dog puked on the carpet three times, I wanted to stop time and savor it. But wait, hear me out.

My toddler and I were having our regular morning cuddles, a very sweet time where she narrates her thoughts to me and the dog came in, which usually deights her. Sure enough, she sat up to greet him, “Good morning, CC!” And then he puked on the carpet at my feet – an explosion of his entire water bowl mixed with bile and whatever leftover food bits were in his belly.

I screamed at David, who was in the shower with the fan on and could not hear me, while the dog scurried out of the room and exploded another round of vomit on a different carpet. He kept running through the house, knowing he was in trouble, and threw up a third time on a third carpeted spot at the other end of the house.

I shot up from the chair, feet and lower legs covered in dog vomit splatter, put my daughter down halfway through my dog chase in the only vomit-free room, the uncarpeted kitchen, and got the dog outside where he stood defiantly, of course, emptied of all fluids now that he was outside.

Ok.

a picture of the dog because we do love him (but a reminder helps right now)

Miraculously, the toddler stayed in the kitchen, away from all the vomit, which was my subconscious hope in plopping her there. Unexpectedly, however, she was now screaming for an apple – I mean, absolutely screaming bloody murder.

I was half-dressed (and now partially covered in vomit), no one was ready to leave for school, we should have been in the car 10 minutes ago, now we also need to clean all the vomit from the carpet, and I wanted to bang my head against the wall or, really, crawl into bed and sleep until tomorrow. Because tomorrow would be a better morning, right? How can I make this day go faster, wish this time away?