Yesterday I got buried under a mountain of vomit. More accurately, vomit-stained laundry. In fact, by the time this is posted, I’m probably still under that never ending pile of laundry somewhere.

It all started innocently.

My most energetic toddler became a snuggle monster. My favorite kind of monster. He wanted to be held and couldn’t bear to be far away from me.

And then the barfing started. It starts with cuddling so that they can draw you in close and make sure that the maximum amount of vomit lands on you. Which is preferable when you consider the other options.

Somewhere between the outfit changes and the scrubbing and the temperature taking and the repeat viewings of Big Hero 6 and the bucket rinsings, I got a tiny glimpse of who my toddler is becoming.

I'm Taking Credit

He says “no, thank you.”

Even when he’s barfing.

If this is a sign that he’s going to grow up to be polite, I’m totally taking credit for this. Sorry wonderful daycare ladies. I’ll give you credit for potty training, but politeness, this is clear evidence that I’m really nailing this parenting thing.

Or that I’m at least doing a good enough job that I’m the one that he wants near him when it’s time to projectile vomit all over someone.

I'm Taking Credit


Chaaron is a Nebraska native who lives in Alexandria, VA with her husband, RP, her son, Dash and her daughter, Pippa. By day, she's a program manager with a public charity in DC and by night, she is happily occupied with living room dance parties and dodging errant duplo pieces. She's terrible at updating her blog, but you can find her little slice of the internet at