Same song, second verse.

Dear Friends,

I’m still on sick bed duty. The bug that hit Parker is a nasty one and I spent all day Sunday pretending to be Florence Nightingale.

After he sat up in bed Sunday morning and ate, I figured we were home free. Not so much. There appears to be a serious flu bug married to the stomach bug so he’s still down for the count.

And with all that mothering and nursing to be done, who has time to do anything else? I’m pretty sure you’ll understand.

Soucre: Pinterest

With gratitude {for teenagers who still need their moms},

Joan, who took a short break to watch to the Superbowl Halftime Show and thought Madge showed them how it’s done

Road trip to recovery.

Dear friends,

I arrived home Saturday evening from my road trip to find a very sick child in my home.

At 6’6″, my 16-year-old with size-14 feet hardly looks a child. But I’m one of those mothers who never managed to graduate with my I’ve-got-this-illness-covered diploma. Whenever my children are ailing, I tend to feel like a young mom dealing with her first fever. I panic a little, I worry endlessly, I Google every single symptom, I peek in their rooms every 10 minutes.

Parker got hit with a stomach flu so violent that he burst blood vessels in his eyes. He spent 36 hours prone with a bucket beside his bed. I arrived home after the retching stopped, but 12 hours before I saw his thumbs up via Twitter:

thePnezzy

Spent all day doing one of my favorite things ever — not dying.

Fortunately by this morning, he was sitting up in bed declaring he was starving. Mr. Mom and I were about to start a pot of Superbowl chili (for Frito Chili Pies, yum!), so I grabbed a can of chicken soup, made a grilled cheese, and became the hero mother with an off-the-shelf meal delivered to his bed.

Photo by Instagram, Hefe filter

He even said thank you AND I really appreciate it.

And that’s all a mother needs to sustain her for a million years.

With gratitude {for quick recoveries and husbands who empty the puke bucket},

Joan, who is pretty sure when children finally stop vomiting wherever they happen to be and can hit a toilet or a bucket that a bell rings and, somewhere, an angel gets his wings