Best solution for removing vomit stains

My son doesn't throw up often, but when he does, he's inevitably eaten something colorful, like strawberries, carrots, or the worst, avocado. Avocados are delicious, creamy, and delightful going down, but if they come back up, just throw out the bib or onesie and call it a loss. It must be the combination of fat and oxidization that causes such a nasty stain.  Most recently, my son overate at dinner and vomited in his crib while he was trying to fall asleep. The sheets, his sleep sack, his PJs, and the mattress cover were covered in his dinner, which included about a third of an avocado.

After washing everything once, it still smelled, and the stains were prominent. I washed them again. The smell improved, but the stains were still there. I soaked them overnight in Oxyclean. No use. I added Borax to the wash. Nothing. After laundering four times (but never putting them through the dryer), I was hopeless that these items would be recovered. That was until I had dinner with one of my nearest and dearest mama friends, and the topic of stain removal came up. She suggested a stain removing concoction that got blood out of one of her pillows and yellow armpit stains out of her friend's husband's undershirts.

Shopping for daycare (hell)

I haven’t forgotten you. I’ve been stuck in a tornado of shopping for a day care, planning a birthday party, and baby-proofing our home. Somehow I made it out alive--probably with a little less hair than I had before. All of it has been physically and emotionally exhausting. Shopping for a new day care and coming to grips with the fact that my baby isn’t a baby anymore has called for more than one double chocolate cookie. Another time, I’ll delve into first birthday party planning and baby proofing (we got super creative). But right now, I’ll focus on the task of shopping for a new day care.

A super duper shmooper good friend of mine is a stay-at-home mom, and the moment I told her I was pregnant, she offered to take care of the baby so I could work. When my son turned three month old, he started going to her house two afternoons a week, and later, two full days. With clasped hands, we hunkered down through the tempest called nap training together. She kept my breast milk in her freezer, cleaned poop and puke, and tolerated “fussy time.” Her soon-to-be three-year-old entertained my son endlessly, and now my son lights up like a Christmas tree they are together. But alas, nothing lasts forever, and it was time to move on.