nummy nummy

Ok, a little lag time after the last post, but nevertheless, I am still here and will now post. The conference last week was good. It's actually kind of a wild time at night, so me and my liver were pretty ready for a weekend of taking it easy. It was awesome to see Ains, of course, and she had a ball with grandma and grandpa, not that there was ever a doubt. It's pretty funny, my mom keeps admitting things she let Ainsley eat that she feels guilty about. "We-ell, we might have given her a little burrito at the Mexican restaurant ... we-ell, I might have let her have a little ice cream." Just like feeding hot dogs to the dog, even though the vet put him on a diet (no mother, I don't believe you have stopped). That's what grandparents do, I suppose. If I have to trade some junk food for an in town baby-and-dog-sitter, I'll do what I have to do.

So we were actually getting back into a pretty normal routine, until we woke this morning and there was throw up all over the crib. So weird, I don't remember hearing crying or fussing or anything, so I don't know if she just didn't wake totally up. She did have the good sense to move to the other side of the crib, however. Poor baby. I kind of thought we were fine this morning after we got everything cleaned up, but I stayed home just in case. Good thing - I learned something about babies and puking. They act pretty fine, maybe just a little cranky, and all of a sudden there's sour milk puke all over the living room floor and the baby and you, and all she wants to do is hug you, but you can't because there's throw up EVERYWHERE and the dog would like nothing more than to eat it. And the baby's saying "nummy nummy" over and over again threw her tears because that's what she says when she eats and it's probably really confusing that it's coming out not going in ... and it's all just a pretty hot mess.

But now Mike is home and the baby ate a little supper and calm has returned, for the most part. And tomorrow is Friday. I love Fridays. Thank god.

barf-ola

The barfing flu of doom descended on the house yesterday, so as I got to spend all day writhing in pain near the toilet while Mike did the parenting, tonight it is my turn. Yay! It's really awful, actually. I woke up yesterday thinking it was some kind of lightweight karmic retribution for having three beers Saturday night, but when I was still barfing at 5:00, I started to suspect something was up. I ceased barfing at about 9:00 last night, and actually made it to work today, but I'm still not quite right. And now Mike is in the full throes. Man, I hope the wee one doesn't get this mess (although I suspect it is all a bi-product of daycare - they ladies there say this nastiness has been going around). We aren't quite used to the germ exposure at casa gussiaas - I guess that's part of parenthood.

Speaking of, I've been biding my time tonight (after baby went to bed) waiting for the first post-hiatus episode of Jon & Kate plus 8. I watched SOOOO many episodes of that show on maternity leave - I couldn't help but stay tuned for the trainwreck break-up. I always saw hints of douche in Jon - I feel a little bit vindicated that he's been such a public sleazebag the last couple of weeks (22-year-old girlfriend ... DISGUSTING earring, etc.). Plus, it's always easy to rail on the wife for being bossy or pushy or whatever, but I feel like she was just getting it done. And she found a way to set their kids up for life and still get to spend loads of time with them working from home (after spending YEARS worrying about money), and she was crucified as exploitive and opportunistic. I can't say I wouldn't do the same thing. Ok, I should do a little work for the next half an hour - work has been absolutely insane lately. Good night.