Blech

For the second night in a row, Baxter has woken me up in the middle of the night to be let outside. It's unusual for him, but I've learned the hard way that when he sticks his panting face up on my pillow, he means business. Usually it's because he's had too much water and has to pee. The night before it was at 2:15 and when I made him come back in (I didn't have my glasses on and thought he was just putzing around) he threw up in the kitchen. Then he threw up again when I shoved him back outside. Last night it was at 3:30 and he just peed, which annoyed me, but at least it wasn't puke. He woke me up again two hours later, but it was barf this time. Once in our bedroom and once downstairs. Lovely way to start the day. There is truly nothing grosser than dog vomit. I'd take baby poop over dog vomit any day of the week. It's particularly hard to overcome the smell, especially when you should be still cuddled in bed. R ended up just getting up, poor guy, because it was so nasty. Blech. Anyway, now I'm beginning to worry about him. Baxter, I mean, not R. I'm not feeding B today and he seems sort of okay but maybe little miserable. I'm wondering if he has a blockage or something because it seems weird the throw up doesn't happen until hours after he's eaten. Anyway, hope you weren't eating breakfast as you were reading.

In other good news, my mom arrives tomorrow for a long weekend visit. WOOOOOOO!!! Parker and I are both beside ourselves with anticipation. We'll be killing time at our neighborhood pool for playgroup this morning where I will be one of the fattest there. Seriously, these Stepford women are disgustingly thin and fit. Maybe they're really aliens. You think?