Sick baby...slow mama

I guess the poo in the bathtub should have been my first clue that I wasn't going to make it to my friend Sara's house today.
But I just chalked Buttercup's little faux paux (did I even spell that right?) in the tub last night up to her well, being a baby. As for her waking me up every two hours last night? Well, she's teething again, so I really thought that there wasn't anything to it.
Then there was the world's nastiest diaper this morning. (Oh, and the one yesterday morning...so yes, I'm slow. We've already established that. Let's just move on, shall we?)
I really wasn't thinking that little Buttercup wasn't feeling well. Which, of course, makes me the most terrible mother in the world.
So there we are, all packed up and cruising along to Sara's, and Buttercup upchucks three babies worth of throw-up all over herself, the car seat, and the surrounding areas of the minivan.
And yes, it was throw-up. The foul-smelling, adult kind. My minivan smelled like a frat-house bathroom after a really good party.
It was nasty.
Fast forward to a bath, hosing down the car seat, taking the minivan to the car wash, giving Cindy 2 a much-needed bath of her own, and tons of pedialite, and I'm thinking I got me a sick baby.
See? All that Nancy Drew reading I did as a kid finally came in handy.
Tomorrow morning I'll be calling the pediatrician to check in and see if they want to see Buttercup in person, and then I'll be calling an editor at a very well-known local publication on a referral for possible freelance work.
I'm pretty excited at the prospect of more steady work, but too tired to be nervous after today's adventures in parenting.
As for going to see Sara, there's always the baby shower.