Waiting for the other shoe to drop

Well it arrived with a flurry!

Stomach flu. Or as I like to call it, I-didn't-NEED-that-lung-or-that-one-either-barf-a-palooza-of-2012.

First it was me. Then it was Ryan. Then....free and clear. But...4 days after any symptoms had been "Silkwood style" bleached away, Claire decided it was her turn to get up close and personal with our rest room facilities.

Poor kid. Although she maintained pretty well. No crying, no freaking out, no panicking. Unlike her mother who, after dry heave hour 4, was on the floor crying for the, "Good lord to take me home!!!!"

It was pathetic. At one point there was a tiny little knock on the door as I was gasping for breath and I hear..."Mommy, do you want me to come in and hold your hand?" Seriously. That was some sweet shit. And I would have had her come in too, had I not been practically passed out under the toilet unable to move. Or speak. Or anything but dry heave again. And I knew she would be scarred for life. FOR LIFE!!

So I'm waiting for Miles to lose his stuff. And if us being sick was any indication of how bad it will be, he'll lose a whole lot of shit. Poor kid.