Wow. I mean– wow. I really didn’t think I had a shot at winning the award for Grossest Night of 2016. Just– wow, thank you. Thank you so much.
But you know, I couldn’t have done this by myself. No, no, I mean that. So many things had to come together for this to happen.
First, I’d like to thank my phone, for allowing me to somehow time travel to 2 am without actually accomplishing anything. I don’t even know how you do it– I just agreed to play a round of Best Fiends and then check Facebook, and suddenly I was buying a cat litter pan on Kickstarter and reading an article about the rise of the authoritarian in American politics and it was four hours past my bedtime. You’re amazing. A treasure. Thank you.
And Rosie? I definitely couldn’t have done this without your sudden and violent Exorcist-inspired vomiting an hour after finally shutting off my brain. Coating your entire crib with a thin layer of raspberry seeds and congealed chocolate ice cream was inspired, but it was your geyser-like eruption in my bed that really took it to the next level.
Thanks to my sleep-deprived brain, who thought it would be a good plan to just throw a blanket over the vomit and move to the other side of the bed, so I could find it in the morning. I especially enjoyed finding this debacle when I woke for good three hours later, because nothing says good morning! like dried, crusty vomit pasted to your sheet under a fuzzy blanket.
Major props to Coconut, who took it upon herself to burrow under said blanket and roll around in the dregs of Rosie’s mess, and then curl up peacefully to sleep on my pillow. Your contribution cannot be overlooked.
And of course, my undying gratitude to the hose on our utility sink. You only have one speed– out of control hydrant– and it was your wily escape from my grasp that sent water and vomit chunks flying around the entire basement and into my hair and possibly my mouth, but I’m not willing to accept that that really happened.
Thank you to my stupid plan to drop Addie off at school rather than just take her to the sitter to catch the bus, and thanks especially to Addie, for failing to remind me that her snow gear was still at the sitter’s until we had just pulled to the front of the drop-off line.
Thank you to the woman at the front desk of Addie’s school who couldn’t conceal her disgust for my vomit hair, which I had forgotten about, because why would it have occurred to me that I might actually have to leave my car?
There’s just something so special about when sleep-deprivation and vomit come together, and last night, we made magic. Even now, after the sheets and the blankets and the duvets and the cat and the basement walls are all washed and clean, I can still smell the sweet tang of success.
It smells like curdled milk.