The Demise of the Dry Clean Only Duds

I should have known better than to put on dry-clean only clothes this morning. It is tantamount to pre-registering my children for Hurling Together (a mommy & me course to explore the techniques for gagging, spitting and spewing. Clean up tips included in this not-to-be missed 24 hour session).

This morning I made that careless and fabric-fatal mistake, donning a wool skirt that hadn’t seen the light of day since the tech bubble burst.

I had it all planned. I would dress Sheridan first, and then put her down for a quick nap while I made myself (and Caed) presentable. Everything was going swimmingly until I decided to wear a skirt and “real shoes” to church, in lieu of my usual jeans and Merrells. That’s when it all went horribly wrong. From down the hall, I heard the dreaded noise of nausea enacted. And knew in an instant that I should never have pulled the skirt out of the closet, much less put it on.

We spent the remainder of the morning hosing Sheridan down in the bath and laundering every last piece of fabric within a 6 foot radius of her crib. Then the vomit watch began. Would it happen again? If so, when? And where? (Lord, please let it be the tile or hardwood, not the carpet, PLEASE not the carpet). The dog was sequestered so as to remove any temptation to help “clean up” in case of another episode.

Thankfully, there was not a repeat of the regurgitation. I’m afraid I have to categorize this episode as “self-inflicted” vs. the stomach bug. Sheridan, after all, has a history of eating paper. One more event such as this and I might have to check her into rehab. “Hi, my name is Sheridan, and I can’t stop trying to eat inedible substances.”

But the damage was done--both to the skirt--and to our lovely morning. Caed, in fact, spent the first 20 minutes of naptime wailing (loudly!) that he wanted to go to church. Then when he woke up early (only after 20 minutes of rest), he started crying again, remembering that he had to skip sunday school. He picked a fine time to get all pious on me. And no amount of bible quoting (i.e. “do all things without grumbling and complaining” or “in everything give thanks”) could reverse his tirade of tears and disappointment.

Later that day, we piled into the car to pick up Dad from the airport (another long story for another day). And this time, I wisely opted for denim duds.