It figures. My husband left this morning for a cross country to Cincinnati. (For those none-military ladies, a cross country is a voluntary trip where an instructor pilot and student fly out of the area to get hours and practice in other parts of the country and, of course, to have a fun vacation full of great food, fun bars, and lots of beer, or so I hear. Oh, and don't forget SLEEPING IN.) So he left and my kids get sick. I'm talking diarrhea/vomit sick. Salla, was no surprise. I've been changing poopy diapers on the hour for the last 2 days. She's handling it pretty well, except for the ferocious diaper rash which I've resorted to giving her meds for the pain. Ethan seemed great! He was fine at school and didn't nap, as usual, had a snack and played this afternoon. By the end of dinner I was wiping his bottom and, eventually dodging vomit in the garage as I tried to get them into the double stroller for a soothing walk around the block. After what seemed like hours of bathing, diapering, reading, nursing, brushing teeth, etc...both kids are finally in bed. What do I get to do? Go outside and clean up the garage. So, yes, I'm having a beer. I might even have 2...