The Mid-day of the Week

When Heath screamed and cried out for us at 2am, I was sure I was going to open his door and find the dreaded attack of the stomach bug vomitorium. Fortunately, I found a half-asleep Heath, sitting in the middle of his (vomit-free) bed, mumbling incoherently. All it took was a pat and kiss on the head, and he was back asleep.

At 5am, I heard Stella crying. Unfortunately, I found a different story. It was more like the one I expected at 2am. Poor Stella. Another tough day.

So, I have two hopes. 1) A puke-free night for my little girl. 2) The virus starts and stops with her. (She's by far the toughest one in this house, anyway.)

My race is in 3 days and I couldn't feel more tired. (And slightly nauseous.) Let's hope it's just from dealing with the unpleasant subject for the last two days.

Heath immediately went outside this morning to make snow angels on the patches of snow he could find on the deck and in our backyard. When he came in he kicked off his boots and said, I'm finished with the snow.

My sentiments exactly.