So. Remember how Lizzie had the stomach flu over Thanksgiving? Eli came down with it and missed work on Monday and Tuesday. Then, last night about midnight, Tommy called us and when we got to his room, he was sitting straight up in his bed with vomit all around him. (May I pause here and say that while I am delightful to my children when faced with a totally destroyed bed like that, inwardly I am SWEARING because I do not feel like doing three loads of laundry -- much of which requires the pre-removal of vomit chunks???) Anyway, he vomited all night long and his daddy took care of him because for two nights prior I had not slept at all. Would each of you reading this please clap your hands together a few times for my spectacular husband?
There are two more parts to this story, but I'm too frazzled to figure out how to make it story-ish. The first is that today is my THIRD day of feeling queasy. I can't figure out if I'm just tired or if I'm going to vomit at any moment (I have a big ziplock in my car, just in case) or if it is purely mental because everyone else in my house has been vomiting but whatever the cause IT MUST STOP. I am far too busy for this business.
Second. Last night at soccer practice, Lizzie - wait for it - fell on her face and has an enormous fat lip. The kids had dental appointments this morning, and while of course Tommy did not go, Lizzie did so that our phenomenally amazing dentist could check her out. Then, Lizzie had a cleaning and she doesn't have any cavities. But, on the way to the dentist I had to drop things off for the AWG Christmas lunch which is on Sunday, then I had errands to run at school and by the time I finally got home at 11, Tommy was feeling must better - dizzy and weak but better.
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