Good morning Monday, and greetings to the last week of October.  We are still blessed with temperatures of highs in the low 80s and high 70s.   I’m still anticipating being able to wear my favorite fall sweater, an orange and white striped wool blend I’ve had around longer than my children.

After a late night of pigging out on pizza, and a few glasses of wine, I was pleasantly awakened by my daughter’s cries for me from the toilet this morning.  With my eyes still partially crusted shut, I made my way slowing toward uninviting aromas of diarrhea and vomit wafting down the hallway.  Thanks to her warning, my feet avoided the chunky slumps of the two slices of pepperoni pizza she’d inhaled which were now beautifully displayed all over the bath mat and bathroom floor.

Good morning vomit.  It’s been a while since you’ve graced us with your presence.  I remember the days where you consisted of breast milk and always seemed to know that we were about to head out the door.  You were always so precise in making sure to cover any nice outfits I wore.  As the kids grew, you grew into the delicious car vomit on road trips seeping into each and every nook and cranny of the kids’ car seats. My favorite visit was after Marley had consumed an entire bottle of milk, and a few sticks of string cheese.  I’m sure you remember this day just as clearly as we do.  We’d just been rear ended while in a caravan of cars on our way to visit the hubby’s grandfather’s grave on the one year anniversary of his death.  Oh and of course, who can forget our drive to San Diego where you decided you want to tag along two hours into our five hour drive.  You were a constant companion throughout Marley’s terrible twos, you never seemed to miss a beat, or miss a night terror.  I’ll have to admit, I wasn’t surprised when you showed up last summer on our 3,500 mile, 3 week, 4 state, camp-o-than.  It definitely made it more interesting traveling with a throw up bowl, rushing Marley out of the tent in the middle of the night, and taking her to get her blood drawn for all sorts of test upon our return home.   So you see vomit, you and I, we go way back.  There isn’t anything you can do to phase me.

As a blind mom, vomit and I have an even closer connection than moms who can see.  During the clean up process, I need to rely on my nonvisual techniques to make sure I’ve done the job, and done the job well.  Nonvisual techniques such as, feeling around to making sure I’ve covered every square inch of the floor, picking up all the chunks with my fingers, and sniffing around the house to make sure there are no splatters I’ve missed.  I love Clorox Bleech on mornings like these.  A little bleech in the toilet for a nice scrub, and a few sprays on the floor.  However, I guess vomit wanted me to do a little more than just scrub the toilet and wiped the bathroom floor with a towel.  After I thought my morning of cleaning was complete, vomit projectiled it’s way out of Marley all over the kitchen floor.  On the bright side, at least it only hit the floor and stayed away from the carpet.  Not a problem at all.  You see, I had fully intended on mopping yesterday, but never got around to it.  So, yes, mop the house it is!  This is great.  This takes care of my workout for the day because mopping + dancing = calories burned.

That ladies and gentlemen was my Monday morning.  Not a bad way to start a day, and not a bad way to start a week.  I’m ready to dance my way through each and every obstacle or challenge thrown”my way.

I hope you all have a wonderful day!