Karma's a Bitch. Then you step in puke.

When I was younger, I had a very sensitive stomach, especially in the evening hours.  My poor mother.  She put me on the top bunk and I swear I barfed in that bed at least once per week on average.  But she never made me move to the bottom bunk, where I believe it would have been a whole lot easier to clean up?

Anyhow, she always told me that she herself had a sensitive stomach as a child and therefore she used to cut out most everything that I could eat after 6:30 pm.  I remember she would never let me eat nuts, unless I "chew them up really fine", and I couldn't eat apples as I puked them up once or twice.  I think I was limited to a piece of dry toast or crackers if I was hungry after supper.

For all those brown, chunky, puke stains I made my mom clean up during all hours of the night, karma has once again proven to be a bitch and I find myself  (or send my husband??) cleaning up puke more often than not recently.  A few night ago, my oldest son G woke us up and told us he barfed in a bucket in his room.  I have to give the kid credit, he has great aim.  He has a permanent puke bucket in his room due to my own childhood issues, and the few times he's yakked, he's been a good shot.

Last night however, we sent him to bed after eating a good load of super-buttery popcorn (you'd think we'd learn?) and as he was having a sleep over with his best friend, we let both boys sleep on the floor of his room in their sleeping bags.  At 4:45 am, I am awakened by a vomit-breathed little boy telling me he just puked on his floor, and then in the toilet.  I woke my husband up and we started collecting the cleaning supplies:  garbage can, paper towels, rags, carpet cleaning spray and Febreeze.  As we walked into his bedroom, trying hard not to wake the sleeping friend, the room absolutely wreaked of sour vomit, and I had to start breathing through my mouth to avoid a gag.  I started to look around for this vomit pile and couldn't see one.  I peered over the bed, and in doing so, took a step closer to the sleeping bag where Gage had been sleeping.  I still didn't see any vomit, so I turned toward the door and in doing so....
slowly stepped in a pile of barf.
In my bare feet.