Friday night I came down with a stomach "thing" and felt like the world was ending. It carried over into Saturday and I spent the morning in bed and the rest of the day on the couch. As Anthony took care of the house, our meals, the girls, and sickly ol' me, I felt the need to continuously proclaim that I wasn't trying to be dramatic I just felt that bad.
Skip to Sunday....
Anthony woke up with said stomach "thing". He spent the entire day much like I had spent my day before and doused it with endless "I don't feeeel good"s and very weak-sounding "Can I have ____?"s.
Now on to this morning....
5:30 am. Ana wakes up calling for me. Unusual but she sounded ok. I grabbed her and brought her back to bed with me. 15 minutes later, that "thing" was sure to have gotten her too. She began to throw up (in our bed nonetheless) so I rushed her to the bathroom where we COMPLETELY missed the toilet. I began to prepare myself for a very sick and crabby girl. But instead? Instead, almost instantly after throwing up, she began to clap her little hands and yell "Clean up! I need to clean up! hehehehehe! Mommy cleaning! Wash my hands, Mommy!"
And this is the last I've heard of Ana's stomach "thing". I'd say Mommy and Daddy stand to learn a thing or two about dramatics from this little girl, wouldn't you? :)
*Update: Tuesday night brought us a very sick Maddie. It was very obviously the same "thing". But, just like her sister, she showed Mommy and Daddy up. In between throwing up we were graced with nothing but baby talk and giggles. We seriously need to rethink our pain threshold.