to the ordinary

quarantined

I woke up at 4:30a puking my guts out. I had to be at work at 5:15a. Knowing at 5 in the morning they would be hard pressed to find a replacement, I went. I then threw up in the bathroom, trash can, and finally in the back sink before they sent me home.

When I walked in the house at 6:30a, I went straight upstairs and back to bed. Sarah told me not to come down at the risk of infecting our girls. Around 7a, I heard her spaying Lysol up and down the stairs. I'm certain there is a thick shield of disinfectant spray between me and them. I'm still upstairs and quarantined from the rest of the family. I'm starting to feel like "Children in the Attack". I'd move, but the last time I did I threw up orange juice. Much better going down than up, I must say.

Taking a Beating

A few days ago my couch took the beating of its short lifetime. On this particular morning Ryleigh woke and came into the family room. We started her morning routine without changing her diaper. Thirty minutes later she informed us, "Ryleigh wet." Although I appreciated her honesty and candor, she came up short in telling us, "Couch wet, too."

Later that afternoon, as I was sitting on the couch about to go to work, Ryleigh came and snuggled up close to me. What I didn't realize was the strategic ploy she had devised in an effort to vomit on me. She carried out her plan flawlessly and chucked all over my shirt...and the couch.

The couch is recovering, but ok.