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The porcelain god

I started the week with a full night's sleep and a peaceful shower. I know, weird, right? Just as I was about to look in the mirror and yell WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY LIFE, Michael called to tell me that Gabriella had been puking all morning, in case I had forgotten who I was all the way down there at the Holiday Inn in Raleigh.

I had planned to fly home that evening but returned that afternoon instead to revive Gabriella from her cartoon coma with a bath and bedtime stories.

So then the next night I received a text message from Michael at work telling me in no uncertain terms that he too had the stomach bug. And I wanted to go, seriously? I know I should be sympathetic, but really? THE BABY COULD BE NEXT!

Let me tell you about the next 24 hours where Michael and Dominic perfected a chorus of vomit in between sips of Gatorade and Pedialyte while Gabriella handed out bandaids and Fisher Price Medical Kit injections. 

So I finally get to Friday with the family intact, and I'm trying not to feel cocky because my immune system, I don't know, kicks a lot of ass, when I wake up in the middle of the night with immobilizing nausea. OH YES I DID. 

I don't think I need to tell you how this story ends.