March 7, 2012

18 Minutes and Sick in San Diego

18 minutes to write.  Ready Go.

It's the end of a long productive day and my Mom just reminded me of my commitment to write every day for - what was it? - 30 days or something.  And that lasted, what? Two days.

Oh, grr.

Well, Mary Kay Ash did say you can always start a diet in the middle of a bag of chips.

Diet.  That's something else I'm trying to improve.  Being so sick for so long and then two weeks in San Diego didn't help that.  I gained about 14 pounds in all.  Yikes.  But I'm back to Jazzercise and home-made food and we're all healthy (Please Lord, keep it that way.) and so I'm looking forward to getting back into shape.

I went to Jazzercise on Tuesday and it kicked my rear.

Speaking of sick, wanna hear a great story?  It's about throw-up.  So, you know, if you don't like hearing about it, you may want to skip the next paragraph. Or the rest of this post.

Our first evening in San Diego, my Dad and stepmom came over and my Grandma took us all out to dinner at Chili's.  Then we headed home to play trains with Danny.  Except Danny was acting really tired and totally disinterested in his trains. Everyone thought he was tired but I thought he was acting sick, because NOTHING keeps that kid away from his trains.  Not four minutes later, as he was sitting on my lap, he projectile-vomited ALL of his dinner ALL over ME.  After we were pretty sure the vomiting was going to stop, and Alejandro and I had managed to catch it all with clothes and hands in order to keep it from getting on the furniture, we started to figure out how to transport us to the shower without spilling any on the floor.  (Anyone wanna' abandon my blog forever yet?  Just wait.  It gets better.)

The 2nd to best line?  "Wait, honey.  Don't move.  Let it soak into your shirt a little more before you get up so it doesn't spill."  This, as he was scooping chunks off my pants to throw away.

But the best line of the evening was after all was said and done and cleaned up and washed up.  He says to me, "Dude!  You were AWESOME!  You didn't even flinch!  You just let him vomit all over you and you just caught it!!"

Glad to know at least I maintained the cool factor in all of this.

Anyway, Danny proceeded to throw up two more times that night and three more times the next four days before finally feeling good enough for us to enjoy the non-snowy San Diego weather.  Poor kiddo.

Did I tell you that Grandma set up his bed in the closet?  True story.  He thought it was super!  Here he is napping one of his sick days.

There were a couple of days in which he got to watch his pick of movies.  

That meant the Cars movie on repeat and playing with Papa's ear...

...and rubbing Papa's head.  Papa really hates that.  Not.

Then one afternoon Papa decided to fold himself into Danny's closet-bed with him.  

It is beyond me how my 6'2" husband managed it.  But he did.  

P.S.  That was way more than 18 minutes.