oh, yum.

WHERE to begin. How about sometime around 3am when I heard Preslie's guts wrenching and puke hitting toilet water (so thankful that it got in the toilet!). Then again around 5 or 6am, same thing. 7am, repeat. The poor girl was down all day. And when I say she threw up everything, I do mean everything. Two sips of water for the poor parched princess- chucked. Two licks of a popsickle- chucked. Ok, lets try ONE sip of water...nope - chucked.
She got worse and more pale as the day went on and then slowly, as these things take their course, the puke episodes spread out and she was finally able to keep down some juice from bottled peaches. Then around 6pm she said, "Mom, I want a hot dog."


"SAY WHAT?"


Did my ears deceive me? Hot dogs make me want to throw up when I am at full health. BUT, if she thinks it sounds good, I can't deny the child some nourishment, however wrong it may be. After all the kid hasn't had anything for 24 hours.


While the children were chowing on what I think is the poorest excuse for food, Dax and I were busy making something real. Something only adults could appreciate.


The pizza of all pizzas.

(cue angelic choir)

Can I just tell you, my love for my husband grew noticeably when I bit into this for the first time.





Think saute'd mushrooms, shallots, and garlic, crispy bacon, yellow pepper, spanish olives, fresh tomato, and seasoned chicken chunks on a bed of alfredo sauce and smothered in mozzerella and romano cheese.


AND. It was completely fat free*.

















*not true