So I missed a post on Tuesday, but Frankie will have to forgive me because I was busy violently throwing up and couldn't quite summon the will to live, let alone the interest in a blog post, even if it is in commemoration of my baby girl.
Monday was a swell day filled with my first and Frankie's first experience on a Jet Ski, or personal watercraft, or what have you. We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly until a bee managed to sting Frankie right in the lower lip. She looked like I had just lost my temper completely when she asked one time too many for an Oreo Cakester. A nice dose of Benadryl took care of the swelling promptly and also had the side benefit of putting her in a semi-coma for the rest of the afternoon.
We enjoyed a Labor Day picnic with friends and I was gleefully frying up homemade tortillas late at night (what you don't do that at ten o'clock?) when I was suddenly hit with intense nausea. As I flipped one, I had to abandon my griddle and hightail it to the bathroom because my mouth was watering and I knew something ugly was about to occur. Soon I was revisiting my Labor Day picnic and feeling mighty sorry for myself.
Thankfully, Dean was off of work yesterday and so was able to take care of the children while I lay in bed and fought (and lost) my battle to not throw up. There is nothing worse than being nauseated. I would rather be in PAIN than be nauseated. I HATE it. I HATE it. I HATE it.
I am feeling much better this evening and am even interested in eating the chicken enchiladas which are presently cooking in the oven.
And because this post was all about puking and stomach ailments, I will leave you on a much brighter note as we countdown to Frankie Pau's Fourth Birthday. Behold, Frankie singing 'Jesus Loves Me' on her second birthday.