I'd Rather be in an Aquarium in France with the Jolie-Pitts

I missed yesterday. But I have a good excuse.

Max didn't want to eat dinner. He didn't want to eat anything. Very strange for him. Not so much that he didn't want to eat dinner, but that he didn't want to eat anything.

He came upstairs last night around midnight. "My bed is all wet," he said.

Max had thrown up in his bed. Oh yes he did.

He threw up all night. Dan took the night shift, and I had a dream about visiting Angelina Jolie in the hospital after her twins were born. Oddly enough, the hospital looked a lot like the church that I went to when I was growing up. Throughout the dream, it eventually became clear to me that I was still married to Dan in this dream, but he was Brad Pitt's brother. We also visited an aquarium with Brad Pitt and their other children.

I had a better night than Dan did.

This morning, I took over and sent Dan to bed. Max and I have been sitting on the couch, watching cartoons and drinking water. About half an hour ago, Max sat up, looked at me, and said, "I need medicine."

"What feels bad, buddy?" I asked him. "Your head or your tummy?" He's had the sniffles all week, and a post-sinus drip cough.

"For coughing," he said.

I got him some medicine, which he swallowed cooperatively. He immediately burst into a round of hard coughing and gagging.

Do not ask me what posessed me to do what I did next. I will never be able to tell you, except that it was that insane motherly instinct that is impossible and pointless to fight.

I put my hand under his chin just as Max threw up.

I grabbed an empty cup and he threw up more into the cup. I called for Dan, and in general had no idea what to do.

Motherhood is kicking my ass a little bit this morning. We'll return to our normal broadcast schedule shortly.