Last night, I peacefully went to bed feeling the full embrace of the new year minus the perfected charts and graphs of decided changes. Instead, I resigned to the idea of my new, very new, Cosmo philosophy. I slept like a baby.
Around 5:30 a.m. I received the gentle nudge on the shoulder from my seven year old alerting me that her belly hurt. I pulled her in bed, snuggled a bit and stated the most over used parental statement ever, "you'll be alright."
HUGE PAUSE (narrator having to hold hair back for the little up chucker)
So, back to my story. She wasn't okay. As a matter a fact, none of us are okay. Brian and I are living with pruned hands, a Lysol can and fear of the Hershey squirts with vomit.
All morning and now, what is it noon?, I have been living my Cosmo philosophy as a nightmare...FOLLOWING MY LOVED ONE FROM ROOM TO ROOM. I never said with a trash can!!!
I am murdering my philosophical Polly Anna and returning to my Type A rather sterile excel charts for the year. Carry on.
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