Wild Rice Puke

If you've read any archives of our blog, you'll see that some sort of tummy trauma usually strikes my kids around Valentine's Day. This year, I am feeling the love early. Last night, at about 2:30 am, my little guy called for us. He was burning up with a fever and we rushed him to the bathroom because he'd coughed up a little puke globule. He made it to the toilet on time to regurgitate the wild rice my husband made for dinner (yes, I am lucky enough to have a man who helps me with the cooking sometimes). We didn't see the grilled pork loin or Brussel sprouts emerge, and I was glad for that. Fortunately, he kept all his food and fluids down today. But he doesn't look right to me. I am going to take him to the doctor tomorrow while his big sis and twin sis are at school. Twin sis is going to pitch a fit that he gets to stay home with me, but she'll get over it. When it's the other way around, my son is psyched to be on his own at school. Makes me sad for the day he gets married and ditches me! Let's hope it's just a virus and not something worse.

In case you are wondering what the heck has happened to Cathy, I'm here to tell you that I had a sighting today. The poor dear is totally swamped. Not only is she making sure her four boys are okay, but she's working four days a week (and commuting for an hour plus each way on three of those days). She's launching a big work project on Thursday of this week, so maybe she'll be back here soon. In the meantime, I'll keep you posted on her if need be. I joke with her a lot that if we weren't writing this book together I'd never see her.