Just the other day, I was congratulating myself. Ana’s been in school now for over two months and has yet to pick up a cold, a stomach bug, or lice. (You think I’m being silly to mention that last one, but yours truly picked it up more than once in ye olde elementary school back in the day. True story!) Hooray for us! Hooray for beating the odds! Hooray for good health!

All this congratulating and celebrating came to an abrupt halt yesterday when Emma threw up all over the backseat of the car. While I was in line to pick up Ana. Oh, the irony. First, that it happened at the exact moment that the teacher marched Ana out to the car. And second that it happened to the child who doesn’t even go to school yet! WE were bringing germs to the school! Not the other way around!

Oh, well.

Fortunately, Ana’s school is just a couple of miles away from the church. Which is just a couple of miles away from our house. Praise God for living in a small town, y’all. I drove the girls to the church, where we were supposed to pick up Wes since we had dropped him off that morning. The whole drive, Ana kept her nose plugged and kept shouting, “WHAT DID EMMA EAT?!” (Which I wondered myself, given the exceptionally pink nature of the… you know.) And then, once I rolled down the windows, she kept shouting, “OH, I LOVE THE FRESH AIR!!!” while hanging her head out the window. I’m thankful that she didn’t get sick herself at the sight and smell of the gore, but I had hoped that she would have shown more compassion for Emma’s plight, rather than doing what she did do, which was to shout, “EMMA, YOU SMELL DISGUSTING!” (Which prompted Em to cry even harder. Poor baby.)

Once we got to the church, I sent Ana in to tell Wes what had happened, and as I was stripping Emma down in the parking lot, he came out with a trash can, upholstery cleaner, wet wipes, and lots and lots of paper towels. God bless that man. I apologized that the ride home wasn’t going to be the most pleasant, and he quickly informed me that he had made lunch plans and wouldn’t be going home with us. (I suspect that Ana told him what was waiting for him in the parking lot and he speed-dialed some other pastor to use as his “business lunch” excuse. I don’t really blame him and only wish that I could have speed-dialed someone for myself!) By some miracle, there were two plastic bags in Ana’s backpack and (hooray!) a set of clean clothes. (A pre-K pre-req for unexpected accidents. Ana has never used them, but Emma was in DIRE need.) I switched her clothes out, pulled back her pukey hair with my scrunchy, and was pleased to hear her say that she was feeling better. Ana, however, was not pleased when Emma informed her that, “Ana, I wearin’ your panties now!” Can you blame her? After stripping down the car seat and cleaning the car’s upholstery as much as I could, we jumped back in the car and headed home.

Emma had a great afternoon and was singing and dancing by bedtime. The girls were so content playing with one another that I decided to watch a Netflix movie. Just for reference, Wes doesn’t do horror movies. So, if I ever watch any, I have to watch them alone. I won’t tell you what I watched since you’ll likely tell me, “That one wasn’t scary!,” which is exactly what I said when it was over. However, later that night as Emma found her way to our room, complaining of another tummyache, I couldn’t go back to sleep (thanks to constantly checking to make sure she wasn’t getting sick again) and had plenty of time to think about the movie and work myself into some significant worry that I would somehow (spoiler!) get possessed and throw Wes up a flight of stairs, promptly killing him then laughing my crazy demon head off about it. Then, of course, I had to sit up (at 4am, beside a sick child, mind you) and think through it theologically, thereby concluding that Christ leaves no room for any spirit but the Holy Spirit, so Wes is safe from such an untimely, camera-crashing fate. Whew. (And thereby concluding, at about 5am, that I should probably stop watching horror movies. Good idea.)

After only a couple of hours of sleep (as you can imagine!), I woke up to an overly-tired Emma. Took Ana to school, came home, picked Ana back up at school, visited Wes at the office, and came home just as Emma began (again) throwing up. I thought we were over it, but we were not. She has since slept the rest of the day away, waking up only for a few hours. She’s awake right now and isn’t have any tummy problems, which is wonderful. I don’t know how much she’ll be able to sleep tonight since she’s so well rested, but I’m hoping that she’ll get at least a few hours. Because after taking care of her all day, Mommy needs a few hours, too.

This post was brought to you by sheer exhaustion, rambling thoughts, and sick watch. But Emma sure does look great in her picture, doesn’t she? She told me, “I feelin’ good, Mommy.” Hallelujah! Here’s hoping that it lasts…