Or kind of did. The next day I woke up - guess what? - horribly nauseated and with bad stomach cramps. Yes. Again. It was not a school day and was pouring rain, so the three of us passed a miserable day with me in bed trying not to puke while the boys rampaged through the house. I used to be terrified of being sick with two kids; now it's happened so many damned times I just take it in stride.
I did an informal poll and apparently many of my LA friends with young children are on their third or fourth bout of norovirus this winter. So apparently what's happening to us is not uncommon. If someone could come up with a vaccine for this fucking thing, I would pay a million dollars. As of today I am functional but still nauseated and weak. Good times. Boyfriend has it, too. Now I'm on vomit watch with the kids.
In other, happier news, Bobby starts five day school next week. I got an email that they also want to move him up to this transitional class that takes young 4 year olds and older 3 year olds before Pre-K officially starts in September. I met with his new teacher, who knows him from around school, and she said with sincerity that she was really excited to have him in her class and that his language skills were really advanced (this from the kid who said nary a word until he was 2 1/2. Not too shabby). I hope all the changes next week aren't too jarring for him. I'm hoping five day school will increase his confidence about wearing underpants. I've already told him it's all underwear once he turns four (during the day, anyway). I've got to draw the line somewhere.
I've taken two steps forward with The Boyfriend. In order to make both our lives easier, I gave him a key. Also I cleared a drawer and half a closet for him and am now doing his laundry. I am still nowhere near ready to have him move in. But, you know, baby steps.