Happy Norovirus Season to all who celebrate! 🫠

At approximately 1:17am, my 2-year-old christened the night with a full-body, high-velocity offering.

There are few experiences more humbling than trying to calculate projectile radius while half asleep and whisper-praying, “please not the rug, please not the rug.”

By 3:04am I had:

Changed multiple sheets.

Changed multiple pajamas.

Unsuccessfully tried to convince a toddler that it was not time to wake up yet.

Questioned my life choices.

And this morning, as I walked into work, I had a persistent thought:

Do I smell like vomit?

I genuinely cannot tell.

At some point in the night, vomit touched my body.

Where? Unknown.

Arms? Probably.

Hair? Possibly.

Soul? Definitely.

Was there time to shower before my 8:30am meeting? I think you see where this is going...

And yet — here I am. In real clothes. With a laptop and very large coffee. Writing my next R01 proposal.

To all the Scientist Mothers who have fought 17 battles, contained a biohazard event, managed a childcare scramble, and negotiated with a toddler and her 5-year-old union representative by 8am, I see you.

We may or may not smell faintly of disinfectant (or worse...)

But we’re here.

And we’ve got this. 💪