But What About CootieGirl….

Guess who was up all night with a vomiting child?

ME! ME!

Guess who was up all night gambling in Vegas and winning regularly at Roulette?

NOT ME! NOT ME!

Fever has broken, which is great. But then last night at around midnight CootieGirl woke up in a panic. “I’m going to throw up, Mama!”

We ran to the bathroom and got there just in time – she hurled. I put her in my bed and we passed out. About an hour later, as she snuggled against me, I heard a rumbling sound. “Are you okay?” I asked her. “Mmmmmm…” she hedged. Then whelped, “I’m gonna be sick, Mama!” She began coughing a bit, and clapped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep it in as she got out of bed, to no avail. She hurled on my side of the bed. *sigh*

As she climbed over the mess her stomach lurched again and she went running, mostly making it to the toilet in time. She hurled again.

I told her that I wouldn’t be able to sleep in my bed anymore, but that she was welcome to stay there, which she agreed to. So I took my cellphone and went into CootieGirl’s room. I called Denis. He picked up on the third ring.

“Hey! I’m winning!” he crowed. “I’ve made about two or three hundred dollars!”

“Yay…”

“I walked up to a table and played your 29 and won!” (I had told him to put money on 29 for me). He paused, “Um, they won’t let me be on a cellphone when I place a bet. Can I call you back in 30 seconds?”

“Sure.”

*30 seconds later*

“I just put $10 on 17 and it hit! I won $350 bucks!”

“CootieGirl is sick – she has thrown up a few times tonight.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that – I wish I could be there to help.”

“Mmmm hmmm.”

“You gotta come to Vegas. You’d love it. I told my boss that our next vacation that we book, we’re comin’ here.”

“Mmmmm hmmmm.”

At this point, I thought he said he had to go again – I heard something like “Okay, bets are do – I gotta go,” so I quickly said goodbye and hung up the phone.

However, as I laid there in the dark I realized that’s not what he said – what he ACTUALLY said was a continuation on the “you gotta come here – WE gotta go,” theme. Oh well. I was too tired to call back at that point.

For over 10 years I’ve been telling Denis I wanted to go to Vegas. He’s been before, I haven’t. And for ten years he’s been saying, “Aw, it’s not that great – AC is just as good and it’s closer. I don’t feel like going again.” And so we haven’t been. And yet last night he was ALL OVER IT as he sat at a roulette table putting $10 on 17 while I held back CootieGirl’s hair so she wouldn’t get puke on it.

I’ve already called Mr. BIL and Blondie Boss to tell them I wouldn’t be in. Again.

I’m officially out of vacation days now. The day I take in October to go to NYC will be a day without pay, and I won’t take the day in December that I normally take before the White Elephant party.