The last time I vomited was 1994.  That’s right, 1994!  It was Thanksgiving and not only did I not get to miss any school because we were on Thanksgiving break, but I did miss all of the amazing food.

Since then, I have been the model of vomit-free living, rarely sick, uneffected by trips to Mexico and Africa and after 14 years feeling pretty untouchable.

That is until Nora and Clara got a hold of me.  We walked into my sister’s house at around midnight on Monday and the girls had just thrown up.  Aw poor babies right?  I felt bad for them, I really did, until Wednesday afteroon that is. 

We were ready to head home when I started feeling really nautious.  I laid down, couldn’t get comfortable and then it happened.  The streak was over.  I’ll spare you the details (let’s just say I won’t be eating all-meat pizza for a while).  Over the next few hours I made up for the last 14 years and then some.  Finally, I was in so much pain from dehydration that Jenn had to take me to the hospital at 12:30.

4 hours, three holes in my arms, two liters of saline and some anit-nausea meds later I was ready to go, still feeling a little shaky.  The plan was to take our time getting up on Thursday and have Jenn drive home while I slept so that I could make it to rehearsal last night.  Unfortunately, Jenn got sick as well and so I had to drive.  3 hours of driving when you’re tired and not sure if you’ll be able to hold anything down is not fun.

The final total?  By the end of the three days, the two babies and all four adults had spent a significant amount of time giving our insides some fresh air.

Let’s just say, we aren’t planning another trip up to Sacramento anytime soon.