The Easter experience I got instead: I woke with puke in my hair, wore a bathrobe all day, and thought I was dying. J felt a smidge less deathly, so he got A detail while I snuggled V and prayed she wouldn't cry and exacerbate my pounding headache. Let me back up. About 6pm last night, I felt vaguely nauseous. Figured it was the excess amount of sun/heat I'd gotten out in the yard planting flowers. Around 7pm, J said he was feeling nauseous. Hmm. He hadn't even been in the sunny/hot yard. We ate about fifteen minutes later, and fifteen minutes after that, my beloved's head was inside the toilet bowl. Ew, I thought, and resigned myself to a night running solo with the bebe while J slept it off on the couch. Then ... my tummy started rumbling and well, let's just say it's a good thing we have more than one bathroom in this house. (We weren't so fortunate when we were 1 bed, 1 bath apartment dwellers returning from a Mexican vacation. It got ugly up in there real fast.) So last night was a blur of the two of us stumbling from the bed to the bathroom to the couch to the bathroom to the bedroom floor right beside the bathroom door, where I finally passed out at 5am atop a baby blanket, sweating and shivering and crying for my mommy. And slept for one whole hour before A woke up. V, bless her sweet sweet heart, slept peacefully through the night, waking just once for a bottle before heading right back to sleep. I'm ordering her a pony.
And while we are blessing sweet sweet hearts, can I just say how abso-freaking-lutely grateful I am for kind and thoughtful in-laws who make the three hour drive from their house to ours for the second time this week to provide us with a few extra sets of baby holding arms and give us some much needed rest? Seriously. Grateful.
So the point of the story is, our Easter sucked. The babies' baskets are still stashed away in my closet, eggs unfilled, not a single photo taken. I'm just glad A's too little to understand holiday traditions, because I'd hate to have to explain why the bunny stood him up. I'm still laying in bed looking like something that crawled out from under a rock, I haven't eaten a thing all day, and I'm hoping that at very least this "diet" will put me back into my skinny pants. J's regretting that burger he tried to eat for dinner and hoping to make it through his first day at his new job tomorrow (yep!) without crapping himself. Good times, folks!
Oh, and the second moral of the story is, I'm never stepping foot inside Panera Bread again, MARK MY PUKEY WORDS. J and I both had turkey sandwiches and salads for lunch, and one of the two is the guilty culprit. You've been warned, internet people. Beware-a the Panera, unless you'd like to get very intimate with the inside of your toilet bowl and pretty much feel like you were run over by a big stupid Easter-ruining truck.