11:30 p.m., It Begins. . .

Warning: More gross content!

Does God punish students who procrastinate? I was all geared up for working into the wee hours last night/this morning, as the deadline for my research paper (the last summer assignment!) approaches. What was I doing instead of typing? Cleaning up vomit, calling the 24-hour nurse line, catching second-time-around stomach contents with a large plastic bowl, changing sheets, and doing laundry.

Harper appears to have her first stomach flu.

There is a certain blue bowl which I will never again use for food of any sort.

Banana scented vomit is an unbelievably foul thing.

Watching a one-year-old dry heave (after plenty of productive heaving) is one of the most heart-wrenching sights I have ever encountered.

Harper's stomach finally settled back down around 1:30 a.m., but only after about six rounds with the blue bowl. She's still sleeping now and I'm a little nervous about how I'll juggle the side-effects of her flu on my own because my hero, otherwise known as Matt, still had to go to work today.

I say hero with the utmost sincerity. Not only did I wake Matt up to help deal with vomit, his most feared and hated substance on the face of the earth, but he even maintained his composure when Harper let loose all down the front of his shirt. While I changed sheets and searched for a suitable replacement blankie (guess what, there's no such thing), Matt rocked and consoled Harper as gently and lovingly as ever, despite the fact that he was repeatedly forced to utilize the blue bowl. That is my kind of man.

P.S. Upon further consideration, I decided that no benevolent God would punish me for procrastinating by making Harper vomit. If I was being punished I would have been the one in need of the blue bowl.