Christmas; puke; Christmas; puke.

Oh, Christmas 2011, you are one that will not soon be forgotten.

Last Thursday, baby Gray woke up with the stomach flu. Christmas morning, my Sis and I both got it. Double whammy. Yesterday, my poor hubby, and today the LM.

Is case you lost track that's about a week of puking.

Sometime last night, we decided that Baby Jesus was smiting us non-believers for not celebrating his birthday the way he would have wanted. Either that or we did something REALLY bad in a past life. I'd like to think that squishy little baby in the manger wouldn't have it in him, but after seeing what my own squishy little baby has done in the past week, I believe he can do just about anything.

I saw this on Facebook yesterday, somewhere in between my 20th and 1,000th load of laundry and thought all you other heathens out there would appreciate it.

Okay, now I'm pretty sure I'm going to Hell. And by Hell I mean having to clean up after a family of 5 after they've been sick.

I'll be back after I Lysol my entire house. Then my kids. Then my house again.