As I was making lunch with Ian today, Chase played in the cupboards by our feet. I heard Chase beginning to spit up, so I quickly got a napkin and wiped him up.
Ian looked at me incredulously and said, "Mommy! You cleaned up Chasey's puke before he played in it! Good job! You are a pukemaster!"
Yeah, I guess I am. :)
Oh, and on that note, Friday night Ian was complaining of a stomach ache. He frequently has tummy aches because I recently found some Dora Children's Tums, and they pretty much taste like candy. He was fine through dinner, bathtime, and storytime, and didn't complain about his stomach until I turned out the lights and told him to go to sleep. It sounded like classic bedtime-delaying. I convinced him to lay still and let his body rest. He was quiet for a while. I had time to clean up dinner and sit down for exactly 1 second when he called again from his room, still complaining about his belly. I gave in and brought him a Tums, and as he chewed it, he told me that his stomach felt sooooo much better. Great. Now go to sleep for Pete's sake.
When he heard Bryan come home from volleyball, he yelled again. I filled Bryan in on Ian's antics of the night, and he went upstairs.
Well, it turns out he wasn't faking. He was in his bed, surrounded by a HUGE puddle of vomit. Gross. Gross. Gross. Bryan handled cleaning up Eenie, and I cleaned up the mess. So, yes, I absolutely am the pukemaster.
And I felt really really bad for thinking that Ian was the most dramatic tummy-ache faker in the world. I'm going to go ahead and file that in my "Awesome Mom Moments" box.