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All I want for Christmas… is a good immune system.

On Saturday, we got up really early and drove to St. Louis to see my husband’s grandfather. We got there around noon, but when Andy called his mom to find out when the rest of them were going to arrive in the city, he found out that his sister, brother and niece, with whom we had celebrated Christmas with two days prior, had some sort of awful stomach bug, so their trip would be delayed.

Awesome.

We were all feeling fine, so we went to lunch at Albert Pujols’ restaurant (Andy is a HUGE Cardinals fan, so he was in heaven), and then we went to visit with Grandpa and Andy’s aunts, uncle and cousins. About an hour after we were there, Andy started to feel sick to his stomach.

Awesome.

After we got back to the hotel and got the kids to bed (reallllly late), Andy started throwing up. And throwing up. And throwing up. He was so sick. And let me just say that the “Man Cold” is absolutely nothing next to the “Man Intestinal Virus.” (Perhaps one of my New Year’s resolutions should be to become a more compassionate wife, eh?) The whole time I was thinking about how being closed up in a hotel room was about one step up from being stuck in an airplane in terms of germ-spreading.

Anyway, he was out for the count that night (which was great, because Sam woke up every hour on the hour) and pretty much all the next day. Before long, the kids and I were completely climbing the walls (and I could not keep Kate up off the floor – why she felt the need to wallow on the disgusting hotel carpet is beyond me), so the three of us went to a local outlet mall and let Kate run around the play area for a while.

Eventually, Andy was feeling better, and we went to the gathering of all his extended family at his grandfather’s house. And all the hassle and trouble of the previous 36 hours seemed worth it when we saw Andy’s 99-year-old grandpa with his great-grandchildren.

We finally got home Monday evening. About two hours after our arrival, we heard Kate yell “Daddy! I threw up in the living room!” And then she proceeded to throw up in the bathroom, the other bathroom, and the trash can for the rest of the night.

Awesome.

And then we got word that Grandpa came down with it, too. Andy felt terrible about passing it on to him. But, when Andy called to check on him yesterday, Grandpa assured him that this was worth getting sick:

Pretty adorable, huh?

Would anyone like to place a bet on when Sammy and I will become afflicted with this disease? Because I’m pretty sure it’s just a matter of time!

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No Dew, Day 2

Yesterday I did surprisingly well in my quest to give up the sauce (which for me is Mountain Dew). I got my hair cut, my brows waxed (again, I am now an eyebrow whore), had coffee and water, and was generally ok.

Today, however has been a different story. I started off my day by weighing myself for motivation. I haven’t weighed myself in like, well, forever. It’s been a long time. At least six months, I’d say, but probably more than that. I was not surprised, but I was disappointed to see that I’ve gained six pounds since the last time I weighed in. So…that was good motivation for me to keep going. I did Pilates this morning for the first time in over a year (I know, I am TERRIBLE!) and I was humbled by not being able to properly do exercises that used to be quite simple for me. Let’s just say I am feeling my core! I was reminded that I really actually like Pilates (as much as it is possible for me to like exercise) so that was good.

So, anyhoo, I was doing fine, until after lunch when Joshua announced, “MOM! Sophie smells like POOP!” I chased her down and laid her on the floor to change her…and when I pulled off her pants, somehow my right leg became COVERED in poop from knee to ankle. It. was. SO. GROSS. Needless to say, Soph was also a huge mess. It took me like 27 wipes to clean her up. And Joshua kept asking me questions about his train track the entire time until I had to SCREAM at him, which I love doing, to get him to stop. I promise you I asked him nicely at least twice to shut it until I was done de-turding his sister. You’ll just have to believe me.

Anyways, after disposing of the mound of diaper/wipes/poop, putting my clothes and Soph’s in the washer, running around my house pantsless, and getting new clothes for both of us, I REALLY wanted a Mountain Dew.

I had to settle for a Diet Sunkist. Didn’t *quite* do the trick. So I’m jonesing…but I wasn’t about to put the kids in the car to go get a Dew, so I guess I am not too desperate…yet.

(Oh! PS! I posted a new giveaway on Reviewin’ It Up! today. It’s a small one but very fun! Go check it out! And keep checking back because we will have giveaways there almost every week!)

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Tellin’ the Toddler Truth

Last night we had some friends over for dinner. They have a son, Benji, who will be three in December and despite the age difference, he and Joshua are good buddies. This is partially because Benji, like Joshua at his age, is a very good talker. He talks like a much older child, so he and Joshua can communicate really well.

Recently Benji’s parents have been working with him on potty training, and also like Joshua was at his age, Benji is NOT real thrilled about actually going on the potty, but he likes to talk about the possibility occurring one day.

Which prompted him to ask his mother to where his poop came from.

Which prompted his mother to give him an honest answer.

Which prompted Benji to greet his father at the door with, “Guess what Daddy? My poop comes out my butthole!” this evening.

Which prompted his father to tell that story at dinner tonight.

Which prompted Kool-Aid to practically come flying out my nose.

You gotta love a line like that! And I’d love to know, friends: what’s the darnedest thing your kid ever said?

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