Under the Influence {of Nyquil}

There is no telling where this post may go.

Please do not hold me responsible.

Blame my husband for allowing me to operate heavy machinery {laptop}.

I wouldn't count on cleverness.

Or proper grammar.

Or even coherent thoughts for that matter.

You see, I'm way sick.

Way doped up on Nyquil.

And way bored.

So I'm blogging.

If that's what you want to call it.

I also reek of Vick's Vaporub.

So be glad you are my friend from a distance.



Let me back up a bit.

It all started 7 days ago when I began trying to convince myself that "it's just allergies Talysa..you can't possibly be getting sick with your husband being in Haiti all week and you here alone holding down the fort and all!"... I soon found out that I am nothing but a big fat liar...to be trusted by no one.

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We went on about our week trying to stay busy.

The kids had the best time with this cash register.





They even set up a grocery store...



complete with price checks...



clean ups on aisle 7...



and a little elderly man that robbed unsuspecting patrons in the parking lot. {I have no idea}

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Meanwhile I walked around in a decongestant induced daze. I did manage to smile and nod occasionally so they didn't panic and feel the need to call in Emergency personnel.

Eventually {thursday} the gig was up...and I was left with nothing but the hard cold facts...I was sick. And alone.

So I rallied the troops and called in the calvary.

Translation: I told my children that I was near death and that they had no choice to put their big boy/girl pants on and take care of the house, each other, and their bedridden feeble mother.

They made me proud.

Cleaning house.

Washing dishes.

Taking out garbage.

Feeding dogs.

Folding laundry.

Even praying over me.

They did a fabulous job and we somehow muddled our way to Saturday.

Translation: They had Oreos for breakfast and cereal for dinner for the next two days till my best friend of 11 years walked off a plane and back into my arms bringing balance to my world...and their food pyramid.

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The kids were so proud of their dad and the work he was doing in Haiti all week..but could not wait to have him back...they even made posters the night before.







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Finally Saturday arrived and determined to give my husband a grand welcome at the airport I managed to get to the shower. I did not however get any further with my hair than the drying process...and even that took about an hour because I had to keep sitting down on the bathtub every minute or so to keep from vomiting. This left me feeling irritated that there were electrical codes regarding outlets being allowed within so many feet of a bathtub.

We waited...



And waited...



And waited till we could wait no more...



Till finally...



He came!









So much for the romantic homecoming I had planned.

That will have to wait.

It's now Sunday and he is downstairs doing what he does best...playing with and loving on our kiddos.

While I am here.

Upstairs.

In bed.

Sick.

But so grateful that I am not alone.

I'm linking up here today:

Darcy's


Emily's






"My every mortal breath, is Grace and nothing less"