I don't know how but...

I think I fixed my blog so people can comment again. I am not very technologically savvy, but I fiddled around, clicked and unclicked things and think I fixed it.
I also got rid of my old template because I thought maybe that had something to do with it, so I'm back to plain jane. But I'll fix that too, eventually.

Happy *belated* Pukentine's Day

Well, this Valentine's Day was officially a BUST.
It all started last Thursday, when I got a phone call from day care telling me Olivia was getting kicked out because she had two explosions in her diaper in a matter of a couple of hours and it was so nasty that there was no way they were going to change another one (this isn't what they actually said, but it is undoubtedly what they were thinking and if you've ever changed a sick baby's diaper, you know exactly what I mean). Oh, and by the way, if you are prone to queasiness or are uncomfortable hearing about puking or pooping, best not read this entry because it is so NOT about romance and hearts and love and so all about puke and poop, hence the blog title.
Anyway, I left work and rushed to pick up Seniorita StinkyPants and spent the rest of the day at home with her (and her germs). The following day, Russ took a sick day (foreshadowing, perhaps?) and stayed home with her and her germs because she was quarantined from day care for 24 hours.
Then Friday night came. We got take-out because I didn't feel like cooking and I had some cheese fries (healthy pregnancy diet, I know, I was craving them and trust me, I was punished for it). Russ had some fries, too, and also a sandwich of some kind.
That night, all of these things came back to haunt us in what has become the longest, most miserable night that I can remember. I don't know if the food was bad or we got Olivia's virus, but the night was filled with trips to the bathroom, nausea and stomach pain for both of us and a baby who was awake most of that time due to the scary sounds she was hearing coming from mommy and daddy. Feb. 14, 2009 will go down in history as the day we spent lying on the floor/couch feeling like death warmed over while trying to also care for a toddler.
My mother-in-law came over to try to help us with Olivia, but since she decided that it was a good day to start a wicked case of separation from mommy anxiety, she wailed when I moved more than 5 feet out of her sight. This made life difficult when I had to use the bathroom, which was often.
I'm not going to go on and on about what went on in our house while everyone else feasted on champagne and strawberries and heart-shaped chocolates (or at least that is what I envisioned while I felt sorry for myself), but I will say that Cupid owes us big time. I mean, I don't usually expect much for Valentine's Day, I was just excited about a night out with my husband, in a real-life restaurant for once. And I can guarantee you that if that night out actually had happened, I would have definitely not ordered a bowl of chicken soup, crackers and ginger ale (Tums for dessert).
But I suppose it could have been worse -- a friend of mine had a sewage backup in her house on Saturday. There was something in the air at her house, but like at mine, it was definitely NOT love.