So I went to bed last night with the hopes that we had seen the last of Nathan's puking, and starting to think about goals for myself for the new year. Trying not to think too much on the year that had passed, and think about the future and all that. Visions of myself being in better shape, physically, spiritually, financially danced through my head as I started to doze off to sleep. Only to be awaken by the awful, heart stopping sound of a child puking. This time it's Eliza. I look at the clock, 11:48. Happy New Year, looks like I'll be awake for midnight after all. Aaron and I get her cleaned up, and listen to the fireworks ringing in the new year. We kiss and laugh at the craziness. And then there's more puke, and more puke, and we spend most of the night cleaning puke from 1 and 4 year old. Eliza slept between Aaron and I, with a barricade of towels covering myself because I really hate puke. And at 7:00AM I'm awoken by a sharp fingernail scratching my eyelid and a little voice, "Good morning mama."
And then I go check on the other puker where there's a fight going on over a blanket, and a cat being tortured. Settle fight, free the cat. Start breakfast. Then Olivia accidentally knocks over a giant, open bag of M&M's in the pantry. Clean M&M's, and switch out the vomit laundry from the middle of the night.
And I realize the only goal I'm setting this year is to survive with my sanity in tact. Maybe keep the laughter we were able to find in the midst of sleep deprivation and vomit last night. I'll worry about waistlines and budgets next year, when maybe things are starting to settle down a bit. (HA!)