We had the nicest day on Saturday. Elwood P. took all the boys to Alex's soccer game while I worked on my last statistics lab. I expected it to be painfully slow but it was surprisingly satisfying. I've learned a lot this semester. In the afternoon I took all the boys to Marty's soccer game, which they won decisively. The two older boys and I went to 5:30 Mass followed by a big-screen showing of The Princess Bride. It was SO MUCH fun to see it with them -- they loved it and we left the theater chanting, "Hello! My name is Inigo Montoya!"
Joe had a bit of a stomach bug on Sunday and Monday, and today it struck Alex, Pete, and me. I am only queasy and hoping it stays that way. Pete is the sickest and has the worst aim. He can't keep anything down except breastmilk, but he wants to keep trying. I am limiting him to things that won't taste too bad on the way back up. You know you're a mom when you try to catch the toddler's vomit with your T-shirt because laundry is easier than carpet cleaning. (I was surprised (and slightly repulsed) to find myself thinking, "Hm, this shirt only has a little bit of vomit on it. Maybe I should just keep it on until he throws up again, because I'm going to be doing a truckload of laundry as it is.")
Alex isn't puking (yet) but he's been lying on the couch looking puny since he came home. I wanted to set a clingy Pete down for a minute to blot vomit out of the carpet and I asked if he could lie down next to Alex. They reached for each other. "Petey therapy," Alex said in a mournful voice. I asked him, "Does that mean it makes him feel better to be with you, or it makes you feel better to be with him?" He said, "Yes."
And here's a bonus pic because it makes me smile.
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