My stomach is very empty right now, but I am very afraid to put anything in it. Some mom brought her sick kid and husband to church on Sunday, and the Pastor, another mom that worked in the nursery on Sunday, another mom that wasn't in the nursery, another lady that's not a mom, myself and Travis, ALL got it. Let's just say I "redecorated" the bathroom at around 6:30 this morning. And I found temporary residence on the couch all day today, minus the multiple trips to the bathroom. Thank the Lord Michael was able to take off work and stay home and help with the kids, okay, so he took care of the kids while I did NOTHING, or I wouldn't have made it through the day, I don't think. He fed the kids their lunch, changed diapers, picked up the living room and the kitchen, and went to the grocery store for me. Well, so he picked up the living room only when I threatened to stumble off the couch and pick everything up myself because I got so sick of looking at it, but he still got it done. :-) I was feeling FINE last night. Travis got sick on Monday night, and Tuesday I felt a little blah, but Wednesday I felt fine, and then around 2:30 a.m. I was awakened out of a deep sleep, having some weird dream, and I had to run to the bathroom, broke out into a sweat, cut the heater off, and laid down on the couch for the remainder of the night, with small trash can in tow. The problem was, when I got up around 6:30 a.m. to make yet another treck to the bathroom, I made the stupid mistake of not taking the trash can with me, and, sorry for the gross details, but I was sitting on the commode and lost last night's supper not only in the bathroom floor, but on the walls, the side of the tub, the bath mat, and my pajamas. So following my upheaval, I had to disinfect everything. I felt a little better after all of that, laid back down on the couch, and our crazy, stupid cat jumped up in the ficus tree, pulled it down on the ground, and was rustling the leaves like a jungle cat, nonstop, and I couldn't even so much as doze off. Not long after that, Travis got out of bed and found me on the couch and he demanded his usual Pop Tart, and I told him "Go wake up Daddy and tell him. Tell Daddy I'm sick," and next thing you know, Michael came into the living room where I was sprawled out across the couch and said "Mama? Are you okay? Travis told me you were sick." I didn't have to say anything at all. It was obvious I was stricken with the crud. Today was awful though. It was nice to have Michael here, but the TV was on nonstop, I couldn't catch a nap for anything, and Travis constantly wanted to throw his football or baseball interchangeably. No rest for the weary! Maybe I will get in the bed earlier tonight and catch up on missed sleep. I don't feel YUCK anymore, just weakened, and I'm hungry, but scared to eat. All I've had today is a few ice chips and a few sips of 7-Up.

Project Run, the organization that takes care of Jacob's physical therapy, is having a "Day on the Farm" tomorrow somewhere in Hernando. I have been telling Travis about it ALLLL WEEK, and he has asked all week about going to the farm, and now I don't think we're going to get to go, and so now I'm going to have to make it up to him somehow. I feel so bad because I'm always trying to take him to different fun things, and somebody always gets sick or something.

I've said this before, and I'll say it again...

God should've made Moms where they wouldn't ever get sick, because when Mama is out of commission, everything, and I do mean everything, gets out of whack... including plans!