Aye! Aye! Aye! Cantar Oaxaca!

Ahh, "Cantar Oaxaca", my most favoritest euphemism for puking from my days in Mexico. As in: "Ugh, dude, I got so messed up last night, I woke up at like 4am and totally sang Oaxaca." Handy phonetic guide? Say "wha", like, "Wha. . ? No tacos!?" Next, do a "hock", and finish the "ca!" of the angry crow. "Cantar Oaxaca", it's so perfect.

Not perfect, however, is watching your kids cantar Oaxaca. So many of my more experienced parent friends have mentioned The Puking. Stories of that time, you know, from September of 2007 'til May of 2008 that someone or everyone in the house was in some stage of illness. By the end, I am told, everyone had little personalized puke buckets with their names painted on cute-like. Never happen to my family! Nope!

It's one thing, really, with Max, 'cause you can sort of explain what's happening and give it a name: "Max, you're singing Oaxaca!" He did not see the humor. Miles, though, man. The confusion in the poor little guy's cries during the night: we'd rather not hear those again, thank you! This was harder for Miles, too, because, as opposed to his brother, he actually eats measurable amounts of food. Things have pretty much cleared up now and the boys are back to only singing "Rave On".

The real hero in all this is Katie who spent one pretty horrible night getting tag-teamed by one kid after another while I was out at strip clubs.