It's 2:48 am and I am re-posting this from exactly one year ago today.
Sigh.
Seriously- exchange the Mexican food for homemade hot wings (although I'm sure that Pioneer Woman had nothing to do with this), and the Colts for the Giants and Patriots ...
And, well, welcome to my life.
I think from now on?
I'm fasting for SuperBowl.
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You know how you can lay in bed at night, everything is fine ... and you feel it coming on.
The queasys.
You know, without a doubt that you are going to be sick. But, not right off. You're going to have to live a few hours knowing it's coming on. Anticipating. Like the opening strains of a song you remember the tune to, but not the words.
I consider myself a world-class champion when it comes to retching. After all, I spent both pregnancies hugging the Prince of Porcelain with hubby outside the door singing "a throwing up mommy is a healthy mommy". Cute the first time. But not after 18 months.
As a baby, Kati was the projectile vomiter in the family. She could hit a bullseye 20 feet away with no notice. Her pediatrician had an uncanny ability to sense it and kick off and away in his rolling chair just at the last minute. I, however, drove home many times in his spare scrubs.
Jonathan- well, his projectiles were more, well, southernly-directed. Like, all the way through to his footie pj's.
Any-who ...
Saturday morning I laid in bed thinking "no..no...no...no...". All the while my stomach kept getting more and more adamant about it's intentions. Sure enough, I woke up with just enough time to grab a towel before El Mexicano from the night before made it's re-debut.
Now, we have to be careful. I'm on s-t-r-i-c-t fluid restriction since my kidneys don't' process things like they should. I can only have 1.5 liters a day total. This may seem like a ton to some, but I'm a water-holic. Always have been. And now, I'm throwing it all up.
Bless his heart, John gets right on the phone with the doctor to see what we do to keep me hydrated. I love that man btw.
As I sense El Mexicano Part Deux coming, I yell to Kati to grab a bowl. She hands it over as Part Deaux erupts. I have never actually seen a human being turn green until now. It was amazing to watch her color change ... like a chameleon.
Needless to say, the day was spent sleeping and re-living El Mexicano over and over and over again. John relieved Kati of "puke duty", as she called it. I think he frankly didn't want to have to clean up after more than one of us.
Today is a bit better - well, the Colts won the Super Bowl, so it can't be anything but a GREAT day - although I'm weak as a kitten. Mashed potatoes never tasted so good today.
And that, is how we spent our Super Bowl weekend.
How about you?
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