When I was 4 years old, my father went away on a business trip. As Murphy's Law would dictate, everything that could go wrong went wrong for my mother while my father was away. One afternoon, she got a flat tire. She was totally overwhelmed and her 4 year old daughter (moi) was driving her crazy. While she waited for AAA to come, she sat me on a lawn chair and gave me a bag of jellybeans. I think she assumed I would take a few and put them down. Well, I ate the whole bag. That evening, I regretted eating that bag of jelly beans. I was up all night throwing up. My parents marriage worked like this: My mother did homework(sort of ), My father did vomit. My mother was NOT happy. Needless to say, I haven't eating jelly beans in 24 years.
Fast forward to last Tuesday night. Greg left for a 3 day business trip. I was relatively calm and things were going great. At around 9:30, I heard Gila crying and I went up to her room. She had thrown up all over her bed, her clothes, her Princess Dora doll (I had to cut her hair). She was shaking violently. I tried to stay calm but I got nervous. The baby started crying. I called my mother and asked her to come over and help. She laughed and laughed and laughed. Poetic justice? Probably!
Posted by peninah at February 21, 2005 05:23 PM