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So, I never did come down with what Diva Girl had. I felt vaguely crappy for a couple of days, but it was nowhere near the clammy, pastyfaced barffest that she endured, thank goodness. I know that sounds harsh and all, but really, if someone is going to get sick around here, better them than me. At least when they’re sick, there’s someone around to fetch the gingerale, fluff the pillows, and hold the bucket steady–all while administering cool compresses to the brow and other bits of motherly TLC, of course. When I’m sick? The gingerale gets spilled all over the kitchen floor, they constantly interrupt any napping or lolling on the couch with sweet yet maddening attempts to make me feel better, and they tend to stand over me as I heave, offering a bizarre colour commentary on the contents of the toilet bowl. So really, it’s better this way.
Speaking of better, Diva Girl is. Maybe not all better, but better enough to raise a whining ruckus over the possibility of not going to the PD Day program she’s been looking forward to for a month–Bee Movie, and then swimming at the Y. Last night I told her that she could definitely do the movie portion, and we’d see about swimming in the morning. But that was before her sister took her place clutching the barf bucket.
When Regan woke up around four am making ominous rumbling sounds, I had two competing coherent thoughts:
1) But I’m out of laundry money!!!!
2) Sabrina is going to be so pissed off.
Fortunately, my dad was willing to drive Sabrina to her program, solving at least one of my problems. But that doesn’t help with the fact that for the second time this week one of my children has thrown up all over my bed, and this time I’m out of loonies.
Comment by Heather C.
When you’re sick and puking into the toilet only to feel the soft pat of a small hand on your back, that’s when you know the pain of true love. So glad you didn’t get sick.
Posted on December 8, 2007 at 9:20 pm