I am writing this while continuously glancing over towards the couches to see if my 3-year old - who is wrapped in a red wool IKEA blanket and slouched over a large, orange mixing bowl while watching Special Agent Oso on Disney Junior – is getting ready to vomit. After a long, rough night that involved a lot of sheet changing (why is it that my children always have to throw up in MY bed?), washer & dryer, and holding bowls while rubbing little shaking, crying bodies, I just fed Abraham a piece of toast, and I’m waiting to see if it will come up or not. The water he drank a little while ago has still to make its reappearance, so I'm cautiously hopeful.
I’m also listening for my 10-year old, who is in one of the bathrooms, to see if he’ll need any help. He spent a fair amount of last night on a toilet, poor boy. At least he is too big to be vomiting in my bed.
It’s gorgeous outside; sunny with a blue, clear sky, warm but not too hot, and everything is green and in bloom with flowers in sparkling colors anywhere you look. I hear happy kids playing in the playground, and the soothing sound of waves coming from the sea in the background. What a perfect day it would have been for a family Mediterranean outing. Sigh.