This entry is a gross one. If you continue to read, you've been warned.

A couple days ago, Genny had a stomach bug -- she barfed all over our bedding, the hallway, the bathroom, etc. Then when we were cleaning up from round one, she puked in her bucket in the livingroom and then dumped the bucket. She had a couple more rounds, but they were relatively uneventful.

Today, is my turn.

I've had stomach cramps, food's not interesting, and I've had the runs, but even after being in bed all day, I got up about 10 minutes after Mike went to bed, went into the bathroom for my ritualistic runs, and then when I stood up, I felt things adjust in my belly, so I sat back down. I started to get woozy enough to see stars and I yelled to Mike that I was passing out because I'm thinking, "Shit, what if I pass out and hit my head on the tub or something?" And then I started to projectile all over the tub, while sitting on the john. As this was happening, I remember giving birth to Genny and having the same thing happen -- I just was all over the room because I didn't have a contained place.

Because after that, I felt a lot better, which had me keep thinking about the The Hungry Caterpillar who eats a green leaf and after that he feels a lot better.

The really icky thing? (Like this wasn't icky enough) is that we're running out of buckets because both Mike and Russell are feeling a little nauseous, too.

I don't think there's enough yoga for this. I really really don't.