When Shredded Wheat Biscuits Become Cookies {or} What's That Stuff Coming Under the Door?

Eventful. This is a good word to describe my night. Of course, I prefer my nights to be uneventful, usually just consisting of some good old-fashioned sleep after about ten PM. It all started out OK, the kids were in bed by 8, Stephen was teaching and would be til ten. I was planning on a quiet evening to myself. And, at first, that's how it went. Yes, I got to fold laundry and wash dishes all in silence. It was nice. Then Stephen came home, and Chayce started to cry. Sometimes she cries because the door makes such a loud noise when closing, as it is in a door jam that is over one-hundred years old, and needs a good shove to be closed. One of the many quirks about this house we'll miss (ha ha). Anyhow, Stephen said he'd run up and console her and be right back, instead I hear, "Oh, no! Miss Chayce! Run down to your Mommy and have her help you take a bath." A bath? Why? The answer is all too clear as she descends the stairs...
{note, the post gets a little gross after this point, just so you know, you are warned! BUT, I have to record this for posterity, and so that I will have moments to look back on and NOT miss when I wish my children were still small...}

As Chayce descended the staircase, I noticed a very memorable smell, and that her white night shirt was covered in all the many colors of dinner. Sigh. I rushed her to the shower, with Stephen promising (and working on) cleaning her bed. I must admit, I had been praying earlier for a good time to really snuggle and hold my daughter, as it seemed she was growing up to fast. This wasn't what I had in mind, but we did get to snuggle on the couch as we waited for her bed to be ready. I kept thinking that my prayers get answered in odd ways, and I'm sort of tired of this heavenly sense of humor. At this point, I'm thinking that I'm glad it was just one, wondering what she ate that made this fiasco happen, and how can I help her? Right as I'm remembering where I put my stock pile of electorlytes (yes, I keep them on hand and buy them on clearance. I'm a mom, remember? I know I'll need these things sometime!), Stephen calls down the stairs that I need to help him for a minute. I'm wondering what could be wrong, as he'd already brought all the bedding down, but I go, leaving my sweet snuggle partner on the couch.

Stephen points out that there is the same color of liquid seeping out under Zachary's bedroom door. We're both wondering the same thing, "Did he get up and puke by the door, or did he spew across his bedroom, covering the place?" There's only one way to find out, and we have to, because we're the parents. Stephen bravely opens Zachary's bedroom door to find that the back of the door, the walls and the book shelf are coated in pink, chunky goop. There is a puddle of it seeping across the floor. Yet, clear on the other side of the room is a sleeping little boy, lying peacefully and content--pink drool coming out of his mouth. I jump over the puddle (we concluded that he got up, went to the door, puked violently, and went and laid back down, all in his sleep), and go to his side. I try to rouse him, but he's very asleep. I finally sit him up and wipe his face off, which wakes him. He seems very annoyed with me, "Why are you waking me?" he asks. I tell him that he needs to come out of his room so we can clean it, and that we need to clean him as well. He doesn't understand, too sleepy. So, I explain to him that he's been puking in his sleep. He sits up, and looks at the mess. Then he exclaims (in a cute way, I can't explain it, but it made me laugh), "Oh! What is wrong with me?" He then needs to puke again, and hurries off to the bathroom (but I did have to lift him over the mess on the floor, it was that big.)
The cleaning and vomiting continued til about 5 AM, when baby Payge woke up. Stephen went in to her room to snuggle her, and did for awhile, until in his sleepy state realized that she too smelled funny. Another bed to wash. And he realized that he'd been snuggling puke and needed to shower.

Needless to say, our food today has consisted of watermelon, pears and dry shredded wheat, which I told baby Payge were cookies. She agreed, and chowed down on them. I found it funny that my children would accept that a shredded wheat biscuit was a cookie, and it made me wonder what they must think of my cookies to accept this lie. ha ha. No, really, my baked goods are good, but their trust in me is astounding.