Why Moms Have an Extra Special Spot in Heaven

Today started out just the same as every other day with the kids getting ready this morning for school and heading to the bus. Little did I know what was in store for me. The call came around noon...it was from the school. R didn't feel up to par and was in the nurse's office. My children rarely visit the nurse (except for J's frequent breathing treatments with her asthma), so when I received the call, I knew he didn't feel well. After bringing him home, he lounged on the couch, watching a movie. Then the next call came at 2:00 from J's teacher saying that she wasn't coughing too much, but wasn't acting like herself. So, R, a bowl, a towel, the dog, and myself head to the car to pick her up as well. As we're rushing toward the car, R says he feels like he's going to get sick (AKA - vomit). After visiting the toilet for a few minutes without anything happening, we decided to head out and pick up "sick child #2". On the way, R says, "Mommy, I just had some diarrhea in my pants." Poor kid. After parking to get J, I placed the towel under his bottom to prevent anything leaking through his pants onto the car seat. That smell has to be ridiculously difficult to get out of a car seat pad.
As J and I are making our way back to the car, I told her, "Now R has accidentally gone to the bathroom a little in his pants, so I don't want to hear a word about it because he's sick." She agreed not to whine. Instead, she just got in the car, looked at me, and plugged her nose as I buckled her in. Yes, sometimes she can be a stinker!
We arrived home without any further incidences, evacuated the car, and headed for the house. R reached the door first and suddenly yelled, "Mommy, I need in the house!" He felt the sickness upon him. I tried to sell him on using the bowl instead since I was carrying a backpack, J's coat, my purse, my keys, and the towel, but he wanted the toilet. Just as I was placing the key in the door, it happened. He hit the bowl, but not all of it made it. J yells, "Oh, disgusting, I'm going to vominit (AKA vomit)!" as I'm trying to shush her...she's not helping out the situation. Then she yells, "UUUUggghhhh! Is it on my coat?" No, but it hit your backpack, but I'm not telling you. After a few minutes we all make it inside to start the clean up. As I'm trying to clean R, she's running (yes, her teacher called me to pick her up from school and she's running around the house with a bundle of energy) around asking for a drink, then asking if the vominit hit her coat, etc. Then she tells me, "Mommy, Kelsey (the dog) has vominit in her hair." What? The dog too? He must have hit her when he missed the bowl a little bit! Sigh. So, about an hour later, everyone's in front of the television relaxing and I'm ready for a nap!