There's nothing more pathetic than when my daughter pukes. On Monday night she did so for two hours and settled in for sleep. We both had to strip off our clothes twice, even a new bra! (me, not Bradie). Marcus waded through quite swimmingly. He was a wonderful Cinderella, or military grunt, as I ordered him to and fro with one word commands such as "Towel, now!" or "Remake our bed!" or "Take my shirt off!" I can assure you that last statement was very unromantic :) What a stud- this is all from a guy that also struggles with an overactive gag reflex! He even hightailed it to RiteAid so we could have that delicious generic Pedialyte for the next morning.
Well, the skies have finally cleared, literally and in our little home. I am finally on top of the mountains of laundry that were built in those two hours (thanks to IKEA for removable covers for the POANG chair, brilliant!). I even worked out today!
The most amazing thing is how faithful God has been. His grace is really a REAL thing. You see, I spent most of Monday wanting to punt my little daughter like a football. She was such a pill all day long. Then at 6pm (which is the homestretch of the day) she puked. I can't accurately describe the feeling that washed over me, but the closest words are patience and peace. And of course pity that my sweet baby felt so terrible. I spent that whole day struggling with my own selfishness and impatience...that is the miracle of motherhood that God in His sufficient grace can intervene in seemingly impossible situations of the heart.