4-01-06

10:20p.m Friday, I am again covered in upchuck; my two- year old has once again heaved. Coating himself, his bed, and me with a concoction only worthy of the million dollar Fear Factor ($50,000 dollars way too cheap and the million may not even be enough with as much as they take out in taxes and all). Oh and I’m not talking about eating it, I’m saying just smelling it is worth the big cash. Anyway back to stripping the bed, stripping us, and to the bath and again we lie down. Now I’m completely paranoid to fall asleep, afraid to be awoken by you know what god knows where. So I lie there like a pretzel stick, eyes bugging out waiting. I must have finally shut an eye when the baby starts a musical array of noise from his backside. The odor, oh the odor, well my wish came true I wasn’t cleaning vomit any longer. The morning has come, many diaper changes have passed and some of the dead are moving around again. This is when I think maybe I should fake illness just to get away (I’ve had three kids I am a champion vomiter, I’m not exaggerating I have a plaque).I could fake them out, have them cater to my every whim, and hide in the bathroom if I just want to get away (this is pitiful). I mean hanging out in the bathroom alone ranks right up there with a trip to Aruba? Unfortunately …yes. As of yet I have not fallen ill fake or otherwise, so laundry must continue on and I must stay here (trust me I thought of running away too, but no money, no gold doubloons to barter, no jewelry to hock, I’d be an easy target of the mean streets, staying put is my only option).