Brianna wakes up Saturday morning surrounded by several puddles of puke. Ewww.

Husband takes her to soccer.

She throws up at soccer.

They get home, he recounts throw up story. She throws up on shoes while he’s telling me this.

And again in the kitchen when I rush her to the sink.

Brianna is pitiful, we watch Monsters Inc, snuggled up on the couch.

She seems to be feeling better, goes to play with train track.

Puts battery-operated Thomas on her head. While it’s turned on.

Hint: there’s a warning on the bottom of Thomas that tells you not to do this.

Much screaming ensues, Thomas is disentangled from her hair. Brianna: 0 Thomas: 1 large hunk of hair.

Meanwhile, I do laundry. Pukey sheets and every blanket that was in her crib. And monkey and puppy (her loveys).

I do some work. Brianna is otherwise occupied with her daddy.

Oops. Naptime and monkey and puppy are “taking a tubby”. She goes upstairs to look. Pitiful face when she can’t find them “taking a tubby”. Oops.

Naptime. I run errands, do grocery shopping. Come home, talk to boss on phone about a bit of a crisis I discover when I check my email. Then my dad calls. I cook dinner. Do more laundry. Hello? I’m EXHAUSTED.

Brianna decides that she’d like some “licoricious”. Half a piece later (yes, I’m a sucker) she’s puked it up on herself (and her daddy *snicker*).

Finally it’s her bedtime.

More puking ensues at midnight so we deal with that. Fun stuff, being woken from a dead sleep to puke.

Sunday morning:

Brianna wakes up crying and again pitiful. She and I sit on the couch and watch TV and she drinks THREE mini-juice boxes. (she woke up asking for Ernie and Bert–the juice boxes have Sesame Street characters on them). Think she was dehydrated?

More pitiful behavior during the morning.

I work. Did I mention that I hate working on the weekends. Hate it. But training new editors means extra work so…working on weekends.

Daddy goes to make breakfast. Brianna plays with the train again.

Apparently, the first lesson wasn’t sufficient. Screaming.

Brianna: 0 Thomas the Train: 2 large hunks of hair.

Fairly quiet morning, until I hear…

“Go show your mommy what you did.”

THAT is never a good thing. She thinks she’s in trouble so she doesn’t want anything to do with me. Josh carries her in and she’s covering her face with her hands.

Good news? Nothing permanent. Bad news? That scratch mark Max gave her ON HER NOSE makes her look like we’ve been abusing her.

Finally, after naptime, Brianna seems to be feeling better. She hasn’t eaten much all weekend but she’s had some liquids. Hopefully tomorrow she’ll feel up to eating.

Now: My husband is hoping is sucky-looking Colts (sorry, honey) can pull their shit together and win this game so they’ll play in the Super Bowl via the Bears. Truthfully, I just want to see ANYONE other than New England in the Super Bowl. I’m bored with them–soooo over them (sorry, Shan). I think I was excited for them the first time they went to the Super Bowl but now…not so much.

Thankfully, I finished my weekend work around 2pm. And I got to take a nap. And after cooking, I’ve gotten to play with my new toy all evening. Yay! Too bad tomorrow is a workday 🙁

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