David Archuleta Day - or as we will remember it......

Yes. Today has been declared "David Archuleta Day" by the actual governor of Utah. The adorable teen has captured the hearts of all Utahns, and people across the nation in his bid to become the next American Idol. This adorable youngster wearing the skinny jeans will likely take 1st or 2nd place in the big show, and go on to successfully finish high school, attend an arts college for a couple of years while releasing some crooner albums (that will be strikingly similar to Clay Aiken's) and will then go on to star in some very big shows on Broadway. He really does have a career ahead of him. And, he's humble and sweet. Who doesn't love that? AND, he has distracted the nation from the FLDS fiasco happening in Texas since everyone seems insistent to remember that "the FLDS freaks are actually an off-shoot of the freaks in Utah and what's up with Utah, anyway?" So, here we are on David Archuleta Day, also known as my 38th birthday which will heretofore be regaled in the parental history books as THE BARFING BABY BIRTHDAY INCIDENT OF 2008. During a nice Mexican dinner at La Puente (yum...), Peanut got fussy and fussier and quite grumbly. So, after sitting on my bouncing knee (big mistake) for a few minutes, I decided to stand and rock back and forth with him. After about 90 seconds of that, he proceeded to barf down the back of my shirt, my skirt, my shoe, the floor, the shoes of the man at the next table - oh - and himself. We rushed to the bathroom to clean things up where - feeling just fine now, thank you very much - he played in the water from the sink faucet while I washed vomit out of the clothes. Luckily, he had clothes in the bag, and Bub had an extra t-shirt in the car. Looking back, we may want to reconsider mixing his foods too much. This is the 2nd time this has happened. His little tummy doesn't deal with too many flavors, and his palate really hates new textures. I guess the re-fried beans (which made him gag) and the coating on the fried ice cream (which also made him gag) were just too much for our sensitive little guy. Read "gag" 2x, moms. Get a clue! UNphased by the entire situation, Meatball continued to happily eat anything that Tante Siddie gave to him while pushing grated cheese and broken tortilla chips onto the floor. Remember the days when we drank so much that we threw up on our own birthdays?