Last Friday night Asher woke up sick. He was up all night. Brian took care of him, but we were both awake the whole night. Saturday afternoon I got sick, though looking back I think mine was nerves, sleep deprivation, and heat. Thanks to the power of Lysol and prayer, nobody else caught the bug.

We thought we were home-free.

Last night (again, a Friday) I was up sick all night. I would have sworn it was what I ate (that I won't be eating again, rest assured). Brian was up with me a good part of the night, mostly because he is way better to me when I'm sick than i am to him. Tonight, he started feeling bad. I assumed it was exhaustion - he had been up since two a.m., planted shrubs in the front bed, spread pine straw throughout the front, then painted the side of the house, all while taking care of the kids. In 105* heat. Surely feeling ill at 6 p.m. is exhaustion, right? I would have thought so, too.

Except that an hour ago Silas woke me up. He had thrown up in his bed.

Boo.

I got him cleaned up, gave him some medicine, and just put him back to bed.

But I ask you - our house has not had stomach-related illnesses since Asher was 2 and Silas was a baby. What is UP with everybody taking turns throwing up two weekends in a row? And why did I get the special privilege of having it both times?

So in the morning we'll call on the power of Lysol and prayer and do our best to keep from spreading it. Again.

Oh how I hate stomach bugs.