During The Time It Took Me To Write This Post...

- I cleaned up countless rounds of puke.

- I did four loads of laundry.

- I wiped out the inside of the washing machine, scooping up bits of solid food waste. But hey, at least it was clean. And rinsed. Twice.

- I made breakfast and lunch for one child, and a different breakfast and lunch for the other (sick) child. MISTAKE.

- The well child didn't think it was fair that she had to eat veggies while the sick child got to eat toast. I am the most horrible and meanest mommy ever in the history of the universe, for wanting my children to eat produce. In fact, it was probably the lack of eating produce that got us into this mess in the first place. Which leads me to my next point:

- I got so angry that I actually yelled, "FINE. BUT DON'T COME RUNNING TO ME WHEN YOU GET SCURVY."

- And then I felt bad about saying that, so I made a third breakfast and lunch, and everyone was happy. Until there was more puke.

- I had a moment of zen calm, when we were sitting on the hardwood floor of our dining room, naked except for our underwear, because there wasn't a spare surface or item of clothing left in the entire house that hadn't been upchucked on.

- Or maybe I was just freezing my butt off.

- In any case, I realized that Yousuf will not be home until bedtime. He's working late.

- I wonder if how attractive he'll find me if I greet him at the door, in nothing but my unders.

- Covered in puke.