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I came down with something the other night. Not just a little something - the sniffles or a few aches and pains. I was violently ill. Peter was a prince. Okay, not at first. In the beginning he thought I was exaggerating and kept teasing me: "Stop your belly-achin'. If you're going to be moaning all night, can you go sleep on the couch?" By the middle of the night he realized that I was serious. The early morning was the pits, contending with the illness and still trying to maintain a semblance of sanity and normalcy for the kids. By 8:30am I was calling a babysitter and by noon Peter was home from work. He did his best, taking care of the kids and filling my random requests from bed, but wh... Enlace permanente.