Tuesday, March 30, 2010

And It's Only Tuesday...

I am writing this post from bed. I am in the last stages of the Plague of 2010. Cory and I had a lovely overnight in Portsmouth, NH this past weekend. We had a great day and night until Cory started throwing up at 3:30 a.m. After a vomit filled drive home, he stayed in bed all day while I took Beatrice out of the sick zone. I felt fine until Sunday night, then not so fine. I have never been that sick in my entire life. It was even more fun because after I'd throw up, I'd lay down and the nausea would subside, then the baby would roll and kick and get the juices flowing all over again. Not that I blame him/her, what was going on in my body was violent. I would imagine it was a bit like experiencing a tsunami.

Thank goodness it was only a 24 hour bug and not a full blown flu. To date, Beatrice has not caught it. We're really keeping our fingers crossed that she avoids it.

And we're currently in the midst of Biblical Flood of '10 Part II. So far the basement is dry. Let's hope we can catch a break on that one. Rain, please just stop, just f-ing stop.

So I'm thinking I need to get some sage to cleanse this house or cleanse our bodies (though really I think I purged the devil on Sunday.) Clearly we've done something to piss someone off and need to get our luck turned around. Hope your week is off to a better start.

Here are the things I would be writing about if I wasn't still queasy:

  • The delicious dinner we had in Portsmouth
  • Meal planning for this week

So as to not end this post on a depressing/whiny note, a funny story about my crazy daughter. She has this habit of speaking of herself in the third person (I think that's common for toddlers, right?) She also has this habit of being a drama queen (again, par for the course with 2 year olds.) Lately every small bump requires ice and a kiss. So the other day, Cory was walking past her in the hallway and miscalculated, bumping her slightly. Without missing a beat, she recoiled, shot him the dirtiest look and said "Bea walkin." She then stormed off into the living room (dramatically holding her arm to her side like she'd been stabbed) to tattle "Daddy push Bea." What a diva.

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