It was 7:00 a.m...

when the melodious sounds of the Can-can began to pour forth from the alarm on my cell phone. It was telling me that it was time to end my slumber and begin the day. However, it was too late. I'd already wakened early that morning to the sound that every parent longs to hear before daybreak...the sound of a child vomiting.

Truth be told, it wasn't the sweet sound of Gomer's gagging and choking which awoken me. Nor was it the spewing forth of putrid liquids and solids mixed together hitting water at high velocity that awoke me. For I hadn't truly slept. The deep and burly sound of White Boy hacking and coughing

All.

Night.

Long.

had prevented my nightly dreams, but for good reason. "Cough syrup tastes bad," the eldest informed me previously. "I'd rather cough and keep you up all night instead." (Okay, I added the part about wanting to keep me up all night...consider it creative liberty.)

My joy was increased exponentially by the full operetta that my children performed for me before the morning sun began to gently grace the fields. I didst hear a duet of Gomer and Happy vomiting loudly into the porcelain god. There was a trio of White Boy, Gilligan and Happy barking forth their lungs.

And the most delicate whispers of Princess singing with the morning birds the story of her earache, headache and fever (sentence fragment done of purpose for emphasis).

The roosters began to crow (I really do have roosters in case you're wondering...). The Can-can began to play. And I, like all good parents, sheathed myself with my pillow and comforter believing that if I didn't make any noise, they wouldn't remember that I was here rose from bed, with a willing spirit and heart full of love to care for the five blood sucking, flu ridden leaches beautiful blessings that have been bestowed upon me.

I spent an hour at Wal-Mart buying flu supplies and half an hour at the local gourmet coffee house sipping green tea and eating a cheese danish, egg over-easy, hash browns with onion and pepper, an order of bacon, and a Belgium waffle with lots of syrup. It was a struggle to eat each delectable bite of food. But I did it, for the children. I knew I would need my strength to hide in my office and blog care for the poor little things and nurse them all back to health.

I'm truly a self-sacrificial mother. And that is why they love me so.

The End