Well my friends, I spent Valentine's Day being barfed on. Thankfully, unlike during my single days, it was not my date vomiting on me, but rather my child. I'll spare you all of the details, but suffice it to say that when your Valentine's evening starts out with projectile vomit, you don't exactly feel overly sexy and romantic. Is it not Newton's Law that kiddos always seem to get sick on the Friday evening of a holiday weekend? So far we're managing to weather Noah's first stomach flu without too much lost sleep or my inadvertently overdosing on Xanax, so I figure that bodes well for future adventures in child illness. I can't tell you how grateful I'm feeling for my washer and dryer today, folks, as I really don't think my frayed nerves could handle a barfing one year-old and a trip to the laundry room or, God forbid, the laundry mat. What can I say, but that parenthood makes you ever so grateful for the little things in life… and with that I'm off to throw in my sixth load of laundry for the morning.
P.S. - I really hope that you're having a wonderful, romantic, vomit-free holiday weekend with your loved one(s).