Single mother.

Chicken tends to sleep in bed with me when she's feeling social. Mind you, she's not social often, and is kind of a bitch, like her mother, but she has her moments. As I'm falling asleep last night, I was jarred into an immediate state of "WTF!?" at the sound or retching. In my bed. And then there it was, the unmistakable sound of splat.

Oh no she didn't.

Chicken barfed in my bed.

I groaned and kicked and swore, and swatted her out of my bed sheets and onto the floor so I could clean up the mess.

REALLY, CHICKEN?!

Sigh.

But I shouldn't have been surprised. I gave the cats new food last night. I switched from "weight management" (obesity, be damned!) to chicken flavor (Chicken eats chicken, yes. I rear my children to not only be vomiting jerks, but also cannibals).

So, as usual, they eat it, they vomit.

But it was at 4 a.m. that Harley started in on the vomiting. And, oh, did she ever. Fortunately not in my bed, but I don't know the last time I've seen such a mess. So I was up again, turning on lights, pulling out hair, chasing cats around a studio apartment. And then I noticed the cat pee that dribbled over the edge of the litter box and onto the floor.

OH MY GOD YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME WHO ARE YOU WHY ARE YOU SO MESSY MOM!!!

Sigh.

And that is how I spent my 4 o'clock hour. Cleaning up pee and puke.

I'm not having kids.