Sick baby strikes again

1.  Adder is sick sick sick.  Around 1 o'clock this morning, she started waking up every twenty minutes, whining and crying.  Every twenty minutes like clockwork.  I got up a couple of times to rub her back for a minute or two, before leaving her to snuffle and snort in the darkness.  I finally picked her up and held her - she was just so miserable.  And when I left at 4am,  Etienne was standing there, bleary-eyed in the early-morning dark, holding her while she snuffled against his shoulders.  Poor her.  Poor him.

2.  I was five hours into my shift before I realized the shoulders of my dark grey sweater were smeared with WHITE-ISH CAKED-ON DRIED SNOT.  Oooooh lovely - a present from my sick baby.     

3.  Got home around 11:30...ate lunch with Adele and we both crashed for a nap at noon.  After about twenty minutes, she started whining and crying.  I was exhausted from the previous night's festivities, so I finally scooped her up out of her crib, built a wall of pillows on Etienne's side of the bed so she couldn't fall off, and snuggled her in beside me.  She sucked her thumb and made snuffling noises, but passed right out until 2:30.  SO DID I.

4.  Eva's friend Emie was over tonight and they danced in Princess gowns before Eva popped the happy bubble in a big way - by REMOVING THE CHILD-PROOF BARRIER FROM THE STAIRS LEADING TO THE BASEMENT.  

You know that scene where the party's going on and some jilted girlfriend shows up crying and screams at the embarrassed jerk football player, and the last thing you hear before everyone goes silent to watch, is the scratch of the needle against the record?  I wheeled around the corner from the kitchen to find Addie standing at the top of the void, looking down the stairs with a great deal of interest.   SCRAAAAATCH.

Removing the barrier is just about the worst crime a 5-year-old can commit, and she found herself in bed VERRRRY early as a result.  

Now I find myself sitting here and trying not to think about what COULD HAVE HAPPENED.  

Too terrifying and it will make me cry.

5.  So I'll think about something else that - if I really think about it - could also make me cry. 

THE BATHTUB POOPER STRUCK AGAIN TONIGHT.

THAT MAKES IT TWICE IN THREE DAYS.  

Sick as a dog, and she still manages to lay a log in the tub.  

And of course, this time she waited until she and her sister were wedged in with about 3-thousand pieces of Tupperware, assorted Barbie princess gear, and Fisher Price animals (maybe it was the cow that shat, on second thought).  

Love cleaning crap out of the tub.  

Love cleaning crap out of Fisher Price animal orifices.  

Grr.

Tomorrow will be better.  Staying home with my sick baby.  

And she's welcome to rub snot all over my shoulders, all day long, if it makes her feel better.

As long as she doesn't crap in the tub.