Howdy from Texas. Owen and I have been here since Tuesday, but most of our clothes still lay neatly packed in our suitcase. I just brushed my teeth for the first time since arriving, and I have yet to enjoy a glass of DD's sweet tea. What?
We've been S-I-C-K.
And I have been humbled by how much better my 16-month-old has handled it than I have. He lost his lunch once and one time only and seemed to say, "There, that feels much better. Now on with the fun." But me? Six hours into the great sickness and I was literally out of my mind with dehydration. I wept. I moaned. I proclaimed my impending death. I got carried to the car by my sweet parents and taken to the emergency room. Phenergan saved my life. I'm tempted to go online and order a stockpile of it from Mexico just in case the evil virus strikes again.
But I'll leave you with a happier image than one that involves my head and a toilet. Yesterday, DD and Coach (the heroes of this story) took Owen to feed the ducks while I watched punily from the car. He had a blast, alternately chasing the ducks with crackers and eating the crackers himself.
Spring Break '09!!! Can I get a "woohoo"?