Mike is a little concerned. Matthew's new favorite movie and his current obsession is one of my personal favorites: The Little Mermaid. I figure that it's good for two reasons: 1.) Matthew will hopefully pick up on the subtle moral of the film (obey your father or the sea witch will try to turn you into a weird little worm thing. Although Ariel still gets her way regardless of her parental disrespect and the risk of eternity in the mutant merpeople garden). And 2.) Now that Matthew is into The Little Mermaid, my dreams have finally come true -- someone actually asks me to sing Ariel's songs! At last!

We had one heck of a day today (and it ain't over yet)! I took the kiddos down to Mike's office so that his coworkers could finally meet Zachary (who's already four months old!) and see Matthew. We then went to lunch with Mike, dropped him off and went to Babies R Us to get a free birthday portrait of Matthew. Well, it would have been a two hour wait for the next available time, so forget that. We got back in the car at which point Matthew totally lost it -- full on toddler tantrum complete with abusing the mama and screaming at the top of his lungs. This tantrum continued all the way home, into the house, up the stairs, on the potty and into bed for naptime. The kid has stamina, people; there was no letting up. Zachary was starting to fuss due to that whole feed-me-every-two-hours thing, so I left Matthew to scream it out to his bears in his bed. Well, pretty soon I heard a sound which clearly indicated that he would soon be pushing his lamp and fan off of the bedside table in his fit of toddler rage. In order to stop this occurence, I quickly ran to his door and yelled for him to stop. He startled, stood up on his bed, and with fury in his eyes proceded to vomit all over himself, the bed, the safety bed rail, the floor and the wall. OH...MY...GOSH. We both just stood there for a moment transfixed with shock. Then Matthew realized that he was covered in grossness, so he picked up where he'd left off and howled even louder. Before I could get to him he worked himself up again in a serious sob and vomited some more. I repeat: OH...MY...GOSH. My first thought: Children really are a grandparent's revenge. I don't even know how many nights my parents spent washing sheets and cleaning carpets after I'd gotten sick before making it to the bathroom. Back to me though, 'cuz it's all about me, right? So, I've got a crying toddler covered in el puke-o and a baby in the other room crying for el boob-o. Thank God for Zoloft, people. Thank GOD for Zoloft! Oh well, gives me some material for my Blog.