the final victim

I thought things couldn't get any worse than three puking kids.

I was wrong.

One puking husband is WAY worse. Especially when it is on Christmas.

Every woman knows that men are notorious for being weinies when they are sick. (Mark, if you are reading this (and I know you are), I love you!) Now, I know that he was really sick. I could hear the variety of sounds coming from the bathroom, and besides the quickie 5-pound weight loss I'm sure he's enjoying right now, I would definitely NOT have wanted to be him. But by the end of the day, I was grumpy. I'd been the Christmas hostess and the sole child care provider and I was mourning the loss of that real Christmas feeling and real Christmas day. Mark works insane hours in the weeks leading up to Christmas, so it is always a nice little break on Christmas day when we can actually spend it as a family. Not to mention, Mark proposed on Christmas Eve waaaaaay back in 1995, so it is an anniversary of sorts for us, too.

He still doesn't have much of an appetite, but the puking has subsided, thankfully. He got up and went to work for a few hours today, and has spent the rest of the day moving from room to room, napping in various upright positions.

This picture was taken today while we were outside trying to help Gray ride his new bike, the topic of another post. Those orange things you can see in his glasses? That's me:-) I could have photoshopped them out, but I kinda like them there.