Blah...

It's not been a fun weekend, folks.  I take that back--it started out fun, but ended pretty miserably.  Friday night we actually paid for a babysitter and went out to eat with some friends.  We had a great time...until about 5:45 Saturday morning.  That's when I got sick--really sick.  I'm talking 12 hours of not-keeping-anything-down-I-didn't-realize-my-toilet-looked-like-this-please-God-make-it-stop-vomit.  I could hardly stand up I was so weak.  TMI? Probably...you'll just have to forgive me.  I feel better today, mainly thanks to a phenergan I was able to keep down long enough to take effect.  I am still tired, and my whole body is sore. 

While I was sickly, my sweet husband took care of Sam, me, and the house.  He got me anything I needed and was Dr. Dad for the day.  However, when I finally emerged from our bedroom this morning, it looked like Geoffrey the Giraffe had gotten sick all over our living room. I give you exhibit A:

No, our house is not in Baghdad, and no, we were not burglarized.  This is how much damage an almost-2-year-old can do when everyone is just trying to survive.  He had "colored" all over the tile floor, gotten out every ball he owns, broken his chair, and dumped his blocks out in the center of the room.  Walking through there was like dodging land mines.  Notice the bar stools on their sides...that's because Sam climbs up them and gets on the counter.  He thinks it's hilarious to do this over and over.  We don't. 

Exhibit B: 

I thought you might get an even better idea of the destruction if you saw a different angle.  Can you believe the mess?  I promise my house usually looks better than this.  After about an hour and 1/2 of clean-up, it was finally back to normal.  Moral of the story--I shouldn't get sick again.  Ever.