Ralph-a-rama

I thought Chloe must've eaten something bad because her hurl-fest was on Monday. We laid low for a few days and figured, yep, bad food. Phew. Then, on Thursday, while winding our way through the canyon in a mini-van (I'm sure that helped matters) Ellie began making some strange regurgitory noises. It quickly became clear, especially since she sits directly behind me, that the vomiting had re-visited our family. Ellie really had me scared, throwing up twenty-something times before she finally fell asleep for the night (on a little pad we set up next to our bed.) But she was fine in the morning. Yesterday was my turn. As if being seven months pregnant weren't punishment enough. And Mike made a mad dash out of work around two o'clock. I thought he was going to lose it right into the phone as I was talking with him. Today, so far so good. We think. And we did manage to share our upchuckiness with a few of our favorite family members and friends. Merry Christmas.

Thursday night, when we finally climbed into bed, I was telling Mike how that was my first barf-in-the car experience. He kindly reminded me of when Chloe was an infant and spewed pretty much every time we drove anywhere. Oh my gosh! How could I forget!? We had stains in that old green Taurus that we were never able to get out. Repression is a beautiful thing. (Which I'm sure you'll want to employ having read this.)

In the spirit of the holidays (cheery as this post is) may the winter flu pass you by, and if not, that it will pass quickly and that your selective memory will speedily lull you back into warm Christmasy forgetfulness.