Chapter 1 - Men Are Such Wusses!
 

"Mommy my belly hurts agai.." Morgan didn't even get to finish her sentence. Before Simone had a chance to even think, Morgan's lunch had landed all over her brand new pants. Morgan's tiny face crumpled and she began to sob, holding her little arms out to Simone. Quickly tearing off the soiled pants and tossing them onto the tiled kitchen floor, Simone picked up her daughter and stroked her sweat-drenched hair.

"Shh, sweetie. It's all right." Clad in her t-shirt and panties, Simone carried the small child to the bathroom where she ran a washcloth under the cold tap. She sat down on the toilet and gently dabbed the forehead of her half-asleep daughter, as she felt her own head start to spin. She closed her eyes, hoping to escape the dizziness, and brought the wet cloth up to her own brow as a wave of nausea quickly came over her. Thankful she was already in the bathroom, she jumped off of the toilet, and flipped up the lid, barely making it into the porcelain bowl.

"Oh, thank you God!" Simone said as she sat down on the cold floor, Morgan still cradled in her arms, and looked up at the ceiling. It was the sixth time she had thrown up in the last four hours, and she was more than thankful that it had landed in the confines of the toilet, and not on the carpet or a piece of furniture. She had just finished cleaning up the spot in the living room where Grayson's last episode had landed, not even ten minutes ago. She was tempted to set up camp in the kitchen for the rest of the day.

Simone felt a little better, and knowing she only had a small window of time before she would probably need to be in the bathroom again, she slowly stood up and moved over to the medicine cabinet. She removed the digital thermometer and the children's Tylenol out of the mirrored cubby and sat back down on the toilet. She carefully pulled Morgan's shirt up a bit and slid the device under the warm child's armpit. She waited for the beep and pulled the thermometer out, checking the result. Simone let out a small groan when she saw that her daughter's fever wasn't breaking. She grabbed the bottle of medicine and carried Morgan into her bedroom where she laid her down. Morgan stirred for a moment and Simone managed to get the correct dosage of Tylenol into the groggy child, before she rolled over again. She tucked the covers around her and started for the door, when she stopped. She went back to the bed and pulled the brand new, yellow and blue Pottery Barn quilt off of Morgan's bed. Looking around the room, she also picked up the star and moon shaped rugs from the same store, and put them all in her closet.

She stumbled into the family room, feeling the chills her own fever was producing, and sat down on the couch opposite of Miguel. Grayson wearily toddled over; looking quite pale and carrying his favorite stuffed dog referred to, lovingly, as "goggy".

"Mama," he whimpered. He climbed into her lap and rested his head against her shoulder, making sure "goggy" was tucked securely under his arm. Simone leaned her head back onto the couch and closed her eyes, grateful for a moment's rest.

"Simone, could you get me some more Thera Flu?" Miguel whined, pathetically. Simone slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to look at her husband. He was sprawled out on the couch, blankets snuggled around him, Sports Illustrated by his side, remote in one hand, and the empty mug he wanted filled, in the other outstretched hand. He hadn't moved all day.

"Can't you get it?" she pleaded

"If I stand up I will hurl," Miguel whimpered. Simone stood up and glared at Miguel as she walked past him, taking Grayson into his room and tucking him into his crib. After quietly shutting his door, she stormed back into the room, hands flying to her hips.

"Miguel, why is it you think you are sicker than the rest of us? Have you not noticed that the rest of your family is also, hurling", she said, making the quotation gesture with her fingers. "In between
hurling," again with the gesture, "myself, I have been cooking, cleaning up puke, comforting scared children, administering medicine, changing outfits, and taking care of your sorry ass for the last thirty-six hours."

Miguel started to speak, but Simone silenced him with "the hand." "Now, while both kids are actually asleep at the same time, I am going to go into the bedroom, I am going to climb into bed, and I am going to sleep until the children, discluding you, need me. And I don't want to be bothered. In fact I don't want to hear another word from you! Got it?"

Despite his sick condition he found the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. She just looked so damn cute standing there in her panties and tee shirt, all mad with her hands flailing about, and her hair in a sloppy pony-tail.

"You are so cute." He slowly stood up, waited for his head to stop spinning, and took a step towards her.

"I am not cute, I am pissed. Why are men such wusses when it comes to being sick? I swear it's like you are on your death bed." She spun on her heels and started for the bedroom, stopping suddenly and turning back to face him. "And I thought I said 'not another word'!"

"Not even to apologize?" He grinned, his eyebrow raised. Simone narrowed her eyes, contemplating his question.

"Okay. I'm listening." She put her hands back on her hips, and shifted indignantly from one foot to another.

"I'm sorry. You are absolutely right. I have been acting like an inconsiderate ass. I shouldn't have made you do everything when you feel just as bad as I do." Miguel smiled his bright gorgeous smile. "So, can I speak freely now?" Simone pursed her lips together trying to hold back her smile.

"Why is it every time I get a good fume going you always manage to get out of it?" She asked as he came to her and put his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.

"Because I'm just so irresistible, and cute," he answered, batting is eyes dramatically. Simone looked up at him and smiled, but as soon as the smile was upon her lips, her face grimaced and she grabbed her stomach.

"Op, I'll be right back," she called as she ran down the hall to the closest bathroom.

"Watch out for the..." His sentence was cut off by the sound of Simone tripping over the pile of athletic equiptment he had left in the hallway. "... basketball. Well, so much for being out of the dog house." Miguel clapped his hand to his overheated forehead and groaned as he heard wife's voice booming down the hallway.

"Miguel!"