Sick.

I am home sick today. Just typing might send me in to hug my new best friend, the white porcelain god. I have been throwing up non stop for over twenty four hours, and yes, it has started to come out the other end now too. (sorry, totally disgusting).
My whole house stinks, worse than I can even smell it because I am also still trying to get over this killer cold.
I know it's bad because yesterday every time Joey came into out bedroom, which I had been marinading in the bed with my throw up bowl and BO due to the sweats, he'd hold his breath. At about 4 am last night I decided I must be dying and I started getting weepy thinking about my boys and what my funeral would be like.
Now, I am pretty sure I'll come out of it, having eaten a bowl of dried Cheerios and being able to type.
Joey was a real trooper yesterday, coming home early from training, even though it made him look bad.
If you have ever had the wonderful experience of taking care of young children while you yourself are ralphing, you know that so far as experiences go, this one SUCKS. Get up to breast feed the baby-ralph. Deal with a four year old impatience and tantrums-ralph. I must say Ethan was incredibly helpful and sweet, other than his two tornado meltdowns. He even came in and took my hand on the side of the bed and prayed for me-twice. "Dear Jesus thank you for this grrreat day (!) and I hope you make Mama feel better." He's so optimistic that little fellow. I appreciated it thought, and today, with him being with Nawnie and at school, I really miss him. The house is so empty.
I have to go sleep.