not suitable for sensitive readers

*warning: talk of vomit appears in this post.  a lot.*

Last week Rowan horked in my car.  It was a sudden, unexpected thing, as horking can be sometimes.  She wasn't sick or fussy, or anything out of the ordinary.  And she was perfectly happy before, during, and after the horking incident.  But we were on our way to Barnes and Nobles to play with the train table, so it was inconvenient.  And by the way, yes, we have a train table here.  But it is apparently not as great as the Barnes and Nobles table, even though it is practically the EXACT SAME THING.  Kids.  Sheesh.  Where was I?  Oh, yes.  Rowan horking.  I cleaned her up, took off her cardigan, and she was good to go and play.  And I wiped down her carseat as best as I could with baby wipes. 

So that was about Tuesday and the rest of the week the car REEKED.  We drove around with the windows down every where we went (thank God it's been in the 70s here) since I promptly forgot about cleaning it out the MOMENT I stepped out of it.  I swear, I used to have the brains.  The brains that thunk and had deep thinky thoughts. 

And so here's where I tell you about my saint of a husband.  Who cleaned down the entire car, washed the carseat cover, and made it smell like a fresh morning in the meadow.  Or what I think a fresh morning in the meadow might smell like.  All while I watched the littles blow bubbles, took their pictures and played tag.   He's a SAINT.  Thank you Brian!

{See that top left photo?  There's something about Mary Rowan.  She thought the pink wig might be an improvement}

Completely unrelated to the Rowan horking story is how cute our littles are in their animal towels!

And completely unrelated to that is I am still full from our impromptu Superbowl party we threw together last night!

I think the game is just an excuse to eat food that's really really bad for you.  I'm ok with that.  Especially since I didn't actually watch much of the game.