I had big plans for today. And those big plans came to a screeching halt last night when Emma threw up everywhere. I thought we might be in the clear once she went to sleep without incident an hour later, but at 4:30am, she was in our room asking for water and adding that, “I think I spitted in my hair.” “Spitted” translates to “vomit” in Faulkette language, and sure enough, when I went into her room, there was a great big mess waiting. And after you do a load of laundry and bathe a child at 4:30am? Well, there’s not much point to going back to sleep, so we camped out in the living room, watched some Disney Junior, and decided that today was a sick day.

Emma assured me just a couple of hours later that she was feeling well enough to help me make breakfast. This is how she looked after just ten minutes on her feet…

Yes, indeed. It’s a sick day.

We had a busy, busy weekend. Actually, we’ve had a series of busy, busy weekends lately. Last weekend, Wes’s parents came into town, and we all made a trip down into Wichita Falls so that I could go to Target for the first time in probably six months. Oh, how I miss living close to Target.

This weekend, we had a Make Your Own pizza party for the youth scheduled for Saturday. The girls were invited to my cousin’s sons’ birthday party (got that?) on the same day, and my parents, not wanting the girls to miss out on the party, volunteered to drive up on Friday and take them to the party on Saturday. That gave us an evening to get out of town and explore new parts of the state. Oooohhh, aaaahhhh… We were back early on Saturday morning so I could make pounds and pounds of scary pizza dough for the party. (It was normal-sized when we got in the warm car, and two miles later, it was flopping over the edges of the bowl. IT’S ALIVE!!!)

Anyway, that’s about it from here. We’re getting ready for Easter (can you believe it’s already time for Easter?), and I’m hoping that the sick and ailing will be much improved long before then…