What a difference a day makes.

I can only assume you are no idiot, blog reader and know that a Mommy 'sick day' is a lot like 'paid leave' before your probationary period at work, it doesn't exist outside the fable world. My hubby stayed home to help me recoup yesterday, and I madly, passionately appreciate it.
Am I better today?
Um, well....ON to other things, all sorts of exiting goings on.
My aunt Sharon (who's MySpace page I've tried to link like five times, but it is not working, she's in my top friends, check her out) who is sooooooo supportive of my writing endeavors let me know about a writing contest that's right up my alley and I'm super exited. I will be posting possible entries right here on this very blog and I would love to hear your opinions on what I should enter.
This is an Erma Bombeck contest, and she was a fabulous, funny woman who was well ahead of her time and I hope you'll check this out, it takes a minute, but it's absolutely worth every it.
The Chocolate Meth reviews start tomorrow with Ghiradelli Turtle brownies. Can't you taste them? Yum-O. That was a Raechel Ray reference for those not down with RR.
In otherwise only interesting to me news, Cassie Edwards, sucessful romance novelist has been accused of plaigarism for not crediting her sources sufficently, she says that she was unaware that sources needed to be cited. UMM, did she never write a freakin' essay??
I am scared to death not only of being plaigarized, but of inadvertantly plaigarizing someone. I mean, it seems almost every idea out there has been HAD at one time or other and all that's left is to put a new spin on the old mess, but that's only when I'm being blahhhhh.
This is possible entry for Erma Bombecks writing contest number 1 Mommy's Sick Day:
The alarm pings, and after approximately five hours of seeing last nights dinner in reverse, it’s the last noise I want to hear. I slug my blissfully sleeping beloved on the ear until he shuts it off. Then I mumble, “I’m sick.” He pretends, rather successfully, to not hear me until I slug him one more time. He emerges, beautiful and drowsy from beneath mountains of blankets and pillows, and cracks one eye at me, “ ‘Smatter?” he asks.
I repeat that I am sick, that my body temperature is hovering just below boiling and I was up for most of the night vomiting like I was two months pregnant. Alas, I need help, of the husband staying home from work variety. Because I never, ever ask this the Love of my Life agrees immediately, and I drift back off to sleep.
Minutes later, I feel breath on my cheek, “Mommy?” my five year old scream-whispers. “Yes, baby?” I mutter into my pillow, hoping fervently that I’m not about to settle a cereal v. waffle type dispute.
“Will you do my hair?” she grins at me in the dark, pushing a brush and elastic into my icicle like fingers, I fumble around until I get most of her hair into a (only slightly lopsided) ponytail, then collapse back into my nest.
Again, what feels like only minutes later, I awake briefly to an enthusiastic little person shoving a slightly gnawed on slice of pizza into my face. I gurgle for a few minutes and Daddy comes to spirit him away, but not before I wonder, ‘Where the heck did he get pizza for breakfast?’
Several blissful hours pass in a daze of cold medicine mixed with Pepto. The combination of which has caused a pleasant elixir of sleep.
Around noon, my middle daughter has realized What’s going On, and that Mommy will not be making an appearance today, and is boisterously showing her displeasure by conducting a one man band- type protest outside of Mommy’s bedroom door. Joined soon by her impressionable younger brother they bellow and bang to their hearts content until Mommy finally relents to let them in ‘for just a minute.’
Her lovely elixir o’ sleep has worn off and she’s wondering how Daddy can possibly ignore all the noise. Tired dirty heathens crawl into bed with Mommy and ask if they can watch a moo-vie on Mommy’s TV, and again Mommy relents, possibly the elixir messed with her brittle synapses.
Daddy finds his brood asleep and crawls into bed himself, thinking, “She has it so easy here at home.”
Hope everyone is having a blastastic week. R