How We Roll

I hate vomit.  I despise it.  I detest it.  And I hate starting sentences with "I hate."
This morning was the first day of Preschool for our little G.  Being our middle child, she's never really known life apart from having siblings.  She is the only girl and proves it by her love for anything-princess, baby dolls and her brother's knowledge of Star Wars, passed down.  
The day started like any first day of Preschool would start.  I had little G's outfit laid out, Special K's outfit laid out and Hubs had been great about bringing me Coffee in bed (that I didn't drink until I drove away from little G's school).  We were working as a team.   You know, the way Team Family should.  After all, that's how we roll.  
In the midst of checking off our list and crossing out the things we needed to get done throughout our day, apparently Little G decided this was the day she was going to pick up the baby's milk cup...and DRINK.FROM.IT.  So you know, Little G is allergic to anything dairy.  We have seen this phenomenon since she was 4-months-old.  We fed her formula ONCE (on the road) and regretted it ever since.  That night, she broke out into hives and vomited the ENTIRE night.  Our Pediatrician encouraged us to try a little bit of formula in her bottle when Little G was 7-months-old.  No such luck.  At 1-year-old, Little G got pricked on her back and got blood drawn.  Yesireebob, we have a Dairy Allergic kid.  At first it was a pain to adjust our whole family to this change.  But now, it is a normal, everyday thing.  We just want her to be well.  
Anyway, back to the milk cup.  Hubs & I asked her, "G, did you drink the milk."  G - "Um, I don't think so."  Mom & Dad - "G, you won't get in trouble."  G says, "Well, maybe."  Mom & Dad - "How much did you drink?"  G - "I don't know."  Everything seemed fine, she let out a cough, here and there and we went on our merry way to drop Special K off.  We said our Goodbyes and as we drove away, Little G vomits all over herself and the car seat.  She is screaming, I'm screaming at Hubs to help her and just thinking, great, we're going to be those lame parents that bring their kid to school late.  
We went home, which was fortunately only 5 minutes away.  Hubs had the misfortune job of cleaning up the puke.  I wiped her off and sat with her hive-ridden, teary-eyed body, singing a song she liked, praying it would cheer her up.  The Benadryl was working and we just kept checking in with her to see if she was well enough to go to school.
An hour later, she is playing in class and I am going back and forth with the teacher about her allergy, what she can and cannot eat.  I even wrote out all the safe snacks she could have.  Hmmm, she seemed a bit nervous.  I even offered to bring Little G's own snacks but she didn't like that idea.  As she is showing me all the sugar-bombed interesting snack options, I say "Thank You" and walk out the door to my Hubs and baby-in-waiting.  Let the bawling begin.  
We go home, scratching out the notion that I would grocery-shop and talk about if this was the right school for Little G.  Listen people, I know I am a bit emotionally-amped but we're talking about a dairy allergy.  I'm not making it up.  I know you've been teaching for 20+ years but you don't love our daughter like we do.
So, here I sit, waiting for the vomit-induced laundry to be done, praying that things settle down.
And wouldn't you know it, Little G is not napping but kicking her bunk bed.  I wonder if it has anything to do with the Hawaiian Punch and Froot Loops she had for her snack.  Ugh.

So happy to be here...love this girl.