Superdan

Superheroes have it rough. Bruce Wayne deals with all that angst from his childhood, added to Gotham being a crime-ridden slum. Superman wears those ridiculous red briefs. And Peter Parker experienced firsthand the cinematic turd-fest that was Spider-Man 3. And that hairstyle. Poor guy.

As for me, my plight yesterday was that everyone around me felt vomitous.

Julie felt horrible and actually stayed home, but don't worry because she's feeling better today. But yesterday she was a writhing mass of nausea most of the day. And you know what happens when you lie around all day. You don't exactly feel fantastic when you finally take your head off the pillow.

After I got Julie into bed by 9:00 or so, Tulip decided it was her turn to be sick, but she upped the ante. First she yakked semi-digested food, then bile and foamy white nastiness literally 15 times. I tried to get her to drink water, but clearly she was expelling lots more fluids than she was taking in, which is no good at all if you're a 16-pound doggie.

So at midnight, I took her to the 24-hour vet. They gave her a below-the-skin fluid injection, which combats dehydration while making her look like Quasimodo. They also gave her an anti-nausea pill and sent us home with prescription food. Amazingly, I got home by 1:00 AM, fell asleep on the couch, and woke up again at my normal time of 5:15 to get ready to teach.

To address your inevitable question earlier about why I would compare myself to the men in tights, I handled all that dog vomit clean-up and impromptu midnight vet visit without my sick pregnant wife even stirring in her sleep. Go me!