I wrote this post to make you feel better about your life, you're welcome.

I wasn’t entirely sure whether or not to write this post. But then I thought, you guys are adults. You understand that life isn’t all rainbows and lap dogs in designer bags. I can give it to you straight. And if I’m wrong, well then, I guess a few of you will probably make a mini throw-up in your mouth.

As I mentioned here and here, our weekend started out with projectile vomit. And then it got gross. And no, this will not run amok into a poop post, unless you count the cat making diarrhea in the tub a poop post. Then yes, you’re in for a whole lot of shit.

It all started with Heidi puking in her bed Saturday morning.

The fact that our two year old was sick and vomiting wasn’t new. What with all the shopping cart handle licking, we figured she’d picked-up some kind of bacteria and would be fine by the evening. However, by the next day, her sister was running a high fever, so it seemed we had a virus.

The rest of the weekend was all about holding back someone’s hair or fetching a popsicle. Sprinkled in, our cat got outside and was bitten. She wasn’t gushing blood or anything, but the wounds needed to be cleaned, and she needed to be removed from anything upholstered. It was decided she should spend a few days in the basement with her litterbox until she stopped oozing. Except within minutes she'd dragged a mouse up the basement stairs, and into the living. Not once, but three times, until I couldn't take it anymore more and asked Ben if we could just spend the rest of the weekend chewing tin foil.

So amidst the puking and the mice retrieving, we had to come up with another holding area for the oozing cat, which turned out to be the bathroom. The cat reacted to her confinement by taking a runny, cat dumper over the bathtub drain. Which was so perfect since later in the evening we'd need to dunk Whitney into a cool tub of water in order to bring down her temperature.

And, while this is all going on, my dad decided to fix a hole in the gutter outside where he was promptly attacked by hornets. It looked like someone had snapped rubber bands at his face, but he didn't care and kept working until his face started resembling a cheese pizza. So Ben made a milky, white, baking soda paste to cool my dad’s hornet stings, which got me thinking about making an alfredo sauce for dinner that night. My dad sat in the kitchen applying creamy, white paste to the tip of his nose and his eyebrows, while I stirred my sauce over the stove, and marveled at my gag reflex.