Love Sick.

I have come to a conclusion.  

Puke = Love

Your child comes to you for comfort,

thus proving that YOU are what they 

consider comfort, that is love.

Then they puke all over you,

head to toe in orange chunks.

This is love.

You don't get mad,

your heart breaks for them

that they feel sick.

So you sit there in a puddle of puke

and feel love not anger but empathy,

that is love.

As you scrub chunks off all your child's

clothes and bedding and do endless amounts

of laundry without getting mad, 

at times even laughing to yourself,

that is love.

Your older child all the while yelling

at you oh-so-helpful commentary like:

"You are NOT getting that on my carpet

are you MOM???"

"She is about to puke again MOM!!!"

"She did it mom, she just puked again!'

And you don't kill THAT child,

And that also is LOVE.  

Puke = Love