There aren’t many friends you can talk about poop with.  I don’t mean as a mom, talking about our kids — that’s something moms do pretty easily.  From the time we bring our little ones home from the hospital, we are willing — enthusiastic even — to discuss all aspects of things that come out of our children:  color, volume, timing, consistency.  The only thing that holds us back is some sense of preserving modesty for our children, and the desire to not be known as “that mom who only talks about poop”.

But, quite hypocritically, most of us don’t do the same about ourselves.

For the first time in 10 months, I didn’t write a blog post yesterday.  I was sick — very sick.  It is the sickest I can ever remember being in my life.  Laying on the bathroom floor kind of sick.  Liam was sick.  Dan was sick.  (Benjamin was sick last week, so he’s better now.)  All of this, just in time to share it with our friends, Pam & Joshua.

Of all the people in my life who could have had the good fortune to share yesterday with us, I can’t think of many people better than Pam to have had around.  (My mom and my sister make that list, but not many others.)  She was patient, understanding, and helped bathe and feed the kids when I disappeared into the bathroom for hours.

I’m sorry that her third day in Vienna was taken up by our collective illness (and a significant part of her fourth day).  But I’m glad that if we had someone visiting us when we all got horrendously sick, that it was Pam.  There aren’t too many friends you can talk about poop with.

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