The Boy had his highly anticipated 1st grade field trip to the pumpkin patch this morning. His dad went along. He came home with a tiny little pumpkin and a raging fever. His dad had to turn around, change and immediately head out to work where he'll remain until late tonight.
Thinking everyone was settled for the moment I made a cup of coffee. But before I sat down I poured out a dose of Advil for the kiddo, along with a water bottle of cold water. He proceeded to throw up the medicine. His popcorn snack. His lunch. And I think I saw breakfast in there as well. On me. On himself and on the couch. His little sister had been really concerned about him--pulled the blanket up over him, kissed his cheek. Very, very sweet. Until he blew chunks on her blanket. Then she was all...oh, no he didnt!
Wee girlie screaming. Boy crying but still managed a shower. Couch cushions stripped and in the wash. Girl still screaming. Boy still crying. Girl then hides the fact she pooped in her panties. Again. Dog just wants to go out.
Now? Boy is clean, re-medicated (chewables this time around) and sleeping it off in our bed. (Note to self: Change sheets in an attempt to keep germies away from compromised immune system husband.) But the kitties remained napping on the bed as well, so he's got that going for him. Girlie is clean and contently playing with play dough (my sister's homemade variety...which they refused to play with before because they declared it Stinky. Miraculously the stink has disappeared. Whatever. Kiddos. Not about to understand them.)
And I'm savoring my lukewarm coffee. And the quiet. I take the moments where I find them.