It's not been a good few months here when it comes to bacteria and viruses, clearly. Perle got the "winter illness" (which is what we call the stomach flu), and in between being sick she kept promising me that she would not be sick on the new clean clothes I gave her. Then as soon as she was ok from that she re-enters kindegarden and brings home the chicken pox. Clearly bored out of her skull she begs to visit anyone and everyone she knows while we quarantine her at home, not just to keep other kids safe but to keep her away from bugs until last night when finally she got to have some fun with me.

Bollywood dancing class! Oh yeah, she loved it. Danced and went nuts. Then she woke up in the middle of the night grabbing her side and saying she was in pain. This morning no breakfast, no pee. The was sick. And again. It wasn't until she turned into Linda Blair with heavy green puke that I called a nurse and asked what to do. Calmly I explained that she hadn't eaten or drunk anything so the green bile wouldn't be that strange, except there was quite a lot of it. Nurse said to go to the hospital.

At the hospital, while Perle tried to set records in fever, I stared at the giant flat screen TV chained to the wall for four hours wondering why there even was one up there when you couldn't get to any buttons on it, waiting for the doctor and their tests results. I also cursed the whole waiting for four hours part.

She's been attacked by another bug, of course, was the diagnosis so we brought little pukemonster home and she'll just have to hang out with mom here for another eternity (for her). This isn't good for either one of us, since I have to keep doing my freelance gigs and she resents that I have to work already, and then I get a guilt trip and in the end neither one of us feels any good.

It's at times like these I wish I had a "real job" and could play the "have to stay home with sick child" card. Then I'd actually be with her at home, instead of sitting next to her trying to still do my job while she gets sad and I feel guilty.

Of course, and as usual, the moment I step away from the computer my former only baby - Adland, has issues and I return home to read lots of - to me, considering where I had just been - really annoying mails about really silly things. I'd really like Adland to be a real company one of these days, so when I'm at the hospital worrying about my own flesh and bloods health, some other people at the office can deal with whatever happens.

Sorry about the whining, folks, but ain't that what blogs are for?