Curses....(WARNING: contains graphic content)

Poor Alayna came to Jay and I last night to tell us her tummy hurt. As this has been a frequent symptom of her spring fever, we gave her a bowl and sent her off to bed. But my 'mommy sense' told me otherwise and Jay brought me my robe just in case.

Tuesday I had been steamrolled with a case of the violent pukes and I knew it would only be time before it ran it course through the house. And man did it run its course last night. 4 times over.

I was a child with a stomach that would turn inside out on a regular basis.

By that, I mean I would vomit.

And not the occasional flu bug.

There was my sisters party with 2 hot dogs down, two very recognizable hot dogs plus some other stuff sprayed sprinkler style, across the ENTIRE bathroom.

There was the cousins slumber party at Grandma Plant's house. Her spotless brown bathroom always smelled of listerine and dial soap except for that night...

With so much practice you would think I would be able to hit the toilet, or at least the tub!?!

But then there were the times there wasn't even a toilet around.

On a family camping trip to Seattle, I enjoyed 47 or more kraft singles for dinner.
As the family retired to our small tent they fell fast asleep to the sounds of pouring rain.
My gut was preparing to errupt a Mount St. Helens of regurgitated cheese.
The blast was colossal.....

And if I were to be cursed for my heavings it would probably have to be for Ben's 6th grade band concert...

I sat down in Central's Gymnasium/Auditorium.
20 rows up.
I started swinging my legs, kicking the seat in front of me like any 1st grader would do.....
Unfortunately the seats occupant did not appreciate the massage.
Embarrassed and not feeling well I laid my head down on Grandma Plants lap and was asleep almost instantly.
Without any warning I woke up and the masacre began.
First the rows infront of me, making sure to get the lady who yelled at me for kicking her seat. Then on to Grandma's jacket. When that was full, the Saint {and I mean SAINT} opened up her pursed for to catch the final chunder.

I know my mother would never curse me....BUT every time one of my children toss their cookies....???