She's in no mood to celebrate

Big plans. That's what we had for this festive 4th of July weekend. Handiman's off work today. We had 2 free tickets to the Frist Center. The Ocho and her cousin Alex were having a sleepover at Grandma's so they could help decorate their float for their neighborhood parade tomorrow morning (A Wood Family tradition) We have 2 different parties scheduled for tomorrow, one with family, the other with our Peeps (also Wood family traditions). It's sunny and fantastically beautiful outside.

Yet, there she is. Fever-stricken. Nauseous. Down for the count. The Ocho is sick.

Yesterday morning I dropped her off at Robyn's house so she could go swimming with the gang while I had lunch with 2 teacher/friends from work/school. When I arrived to pick her up she was piled up on the couch under a blanket with Abigail watching a movie. She seemed tired but I figured it was because of the sun and swimming.

As we were leaving, I was discussing party plans with Robyn when Ocho bolted towards the bathroom with her hand over her mouth.

Uh oh.

Let me be clear about something. I hate for my child to be sick. I hate for my child to throw up. I love her and it pains me to watch her go through that.

But I REALLY hate it when she throws up at Robyn's house. And any of my friends can sympathize. As I stated here in the past, Robyn has some slight germaphobic tendencies. And she keeps a meticulously spotless house. So of course, my daughter couldn't throw up outside. Or in the car.

Nope, she had to do it there. Terrific. I suppose I should be thankful she's old enough now to make it to the bathroom. Because if it had happened there in the Great Room.....I can't even go there.

Let me be clear about something else. Robyn is a sweetheart. She was kind and helpful and never spoke a word about the germs or the vomit. She gave us a cool washcloth and kept saying how sorry she was for The Ocho. And she meant every word. That's why I love her so. She wouldn't dare lend a voice to the thoughts screaming inside her head. "GERM ALERT! VOMIT ALERT! GET THE CLOROX! GET THE LYSOL! STAT!"

Since coming home last night The Ocho's maintained a fever of 101. She hasn't thrown up again but she is pretty lethargic and altogether pitiful on the couch. She's got her cup of water, her pillow and blanket, a cool rag on her head and the remote control. She's also been taking her own temperature with the digital thermometer every 10 minutes.

So, our plans for The Frist Center on indefinite hold. Tonight's spend-the-night with cousin Alex is canceled and tomorrow's parade and party plans are in limbo.

And Robyn's probably cleaning her bathroom with push pins. (Private joke. But trust me, it's a funny one.)