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Momservation: Why does the sudden onset of vomiting always seem to occur in the middle of the night?

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We are officially on summer vacation! Note the enthusiasm now, because in eight weeks or less I will be begging you to take my children.

So here’s how we celebrated the last day of school and the beginning of summer vacation:

My daughter came teetering out of school on a sugar high with a half-eaten doughnut in her hand announcing, “Hey mom, today I’ve had two doughnuts, a cookie, candy, a popsicle and hot dog!”

Normally I would’ve called her on lack of healthy choices, but it was the last day of school and all. Plus, we were racing off to try and catch the next showing of the movie “Up” with a bunch of friends and I was distracted throwing ten tons of crap from their desks into the back of my car.

When we arrived at the movies I got the biggest tub of popcorn so I could get refills, passed out the candy I bought ahead of time at Walgreens ($1 jumbo boxes), and indulged the kids in Coke Icees.

Then that night we decided to go out to dinner to celebrate the great report cards (BRAG ALERT – principal wrote “Wow!” on Logan’s report card under his multiple O+s for Outstanding and Whitney’s teacher suggested she be tested for GATE. I’m sure these are my genes). At dinner I let the kids have another soda, Whitney wolfed down some greasy chicken nuggets, finishing it off with a sundae that came with the kids meal.

I guess in our excitement for the last day of school, the sum of all the junk food parts never added up for me. Like a horror movie where everyone can see what’s coming next accept the girl about to open the closet door with a chainsaw buzzing behind it, it never occurred to me I might have let the kids overindulge a bit. Okay, maybe a lot.

Cut to 3:30 in the morning and my Mom Radar wakes me out of a dead sleep to the sound of heaving. I jump up and dash to Logan’s doorway. Squinting into his dark room I call, “Who’s barfing?”

Upon hearing another heave coming from Whitney’s room I spring into action. I race into her room, scoop her 75 pound body out of bed and half carry, half drag her to the toilet, shoving her half-asleep head over the bowl.

The good news is she finished puking in the toilet and immediately felt better. The bad news is the first half was all over her bed and floor.

So I completed the ritual performed by moms the world over. I tucked my daughter into my bed next to my husband who was still deeply sleeping or deeply pretending to sleep. I stripped the bed, treated and washed the linens, scrubbed and treated the barf stained carpet, put fresh sheets on the bed, wiped down the toilet and took the barf bag out to the trash – all in my underwear in the wee hours of the morning.

Welcome summer vacation.