Puke. And Pee. You’re Welcome.

Well.

Whichever woman stated that mothering wasn’t for the fainthearted wasn’t lying.  I just sat down at my computer to look into pulling some snapshots off of my camera’s memory card, and very possibly getting them thrown into a blog post, and then I heard the words, “Oh, no!  What happened?” being hollered behind me.

Behind me was where I had left Thing 2.  He was watching a very educational video on the iPad entitled, “What Does The Farmer Say?”

Before I even turned around, I had already SMELLED Thing 2.

Apparently, he had shoved his hand so far back into his throat, he managed to set off the Gag Reflex, and the volcano exploded like a novice at a fraternity party.

And he had just eaten a bowl of oatmeal, loaded with mango slices.

This was the SECOND TIME that I saw that bowl of oatmeal and those chunks of mango this evening, because HELLO, BARF EVERYWHERE!

So there was THAT delay in the blog post this evening, because this was a mess that couldn’t have waited to be dealt with.  It was a mess that would have killed Hubs dead.

Hubs would have abandoned the house over the mess of puke we had this evening; he would have walked away from the house and the mortgage and said that bankruptcy was completely worth it, because there are some Life Events he is incapable of dealing with, and this was THE LIST LEADER.

Thing 2 is FINE, thank you for asking.  He’s fine and very healthy, and his Gag Reflux is in PERFECT WORKING ORDER.

Also, as long as we’re discussing puke, we might as well move on and discuss cat pee.  Remember last week?  When I confessed that a cat had obviously used our family room carpet as a ladies’ room, because HOLY AWFUL BAD SMELL?  And how I had no idea whether it was Cat 1 or Cat 2, but they were both going to take a nice ride into the country in a pillowcase, and only the pillowcase was coming back home with me?

Well.

Mam purchased a black light for us, so that we could find the spot!  And then cry real tears over the spot!  And then sell the house, because THAT SPOT will kill me dead with all it’s horrible smell.

Yeah.

The VERY HAPPY ENDING to this story is that Hubs and I pretended to be a couple of great detectives on CSI, minus the rubber gloves and the penchant for dramatic stares.  We took that black light all over every square inch of our family room’s carpet, looking for evidence, which we would use to recreate the crime and prosecute a cat in front of a jury of her peers…

… and NOTHING.

Nothing, people!

I wanted to rejoice and pop the cork on a bottle of champagne, because DID YOU EVEN HEAR THE GOOD NEWS?  Apparently there was no cat pee on my carpet!!

AND ALL THE PEOPLE SAID AMEN!

And then they just broke down and sobbed with complete relief.

What it turned out to be was a cat litter box, which had not received a fresh dose of litter for almost two weeks.  Oh, it had been scooped nightly for two weeks, but someone (And we won’t mention any names, because it might hurt her feelings.), kept forgetting to buy kitty litter, every single time she ventured into Wal-mart, even though she ventured in there practically every single day of the last week.

So we changed the litter.  We opened a few windows for twenty-four hours, regardless of the fact that the temperature outside was roughly equivalent to Hot Death, and now things are back to normal in our basement.

Did you hear that?!  None of y’all need to snub your noses at me during barbecues and Christmas parties, because I’m no longer “that girl with the cat pee smell in her family room.”

Bless my heart.

And WHEW!!

And really?  I have no idea how ANYONE can make an entire blog post out of THE BABY GAGGED HIMSELF AND BARFED ALL OVER SIX SQUARE FEET OF HARDWOOD FLOORS THIRTY MINUTES AGO and NO CAT PEE!  NO CAT PEE!  NO CAT PEE!!!!!!!!!!!

Clearly, I have a gift.

Y’all have a happy Tuesday evening.

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