And I can't even blame the baby. Friday night, and a night or two ago, she slept through the night. She went to sleep at 10-1030 and slept through until 7AM. I still woke up worrying about her because I hadn't been called on to nurse, but she was fine and sleeping heavily. I just let her be.

Yesterday morning, I got up, showered, fed the baby, ate, got on the guys to get some chores done and then laid down on the bed for a few minutes and conked out. Mike woke me up when he came into the room. I was rather embarrassed. Usually, I have to beat him with a stick to get him out of bed. Yesterday, I was the sleepy one.

I have been having aching feet and legs lately. I don't know if it's because I'm making such a concerted effort to get into the pool or not, but I'm highly suspicious. I think I've been more on my feet at work, too, so I'm sure all that pounding that cement floor has taken a toll.

Today, we've been having a baby barf-a-thon. She's been puking throughout the day, starting at 7 this morning. It's now 9PM. Suffice it to say, that there's been enough time between barfs to make me think that she's getting at least some fluid out of nursings. Tonight, Pauline came over and Genny barfed down her front in volume. She seems to wait til at least half an hour has passed after she's eaten and then projectile vomits.

She's got no fever, but it still is worrisome to me, obviously. My stomach is a little queasy and frankly, I can't figure out if it's because I'm stressed out or because I'm getting it, too. I'm fully stocked up on pedialyte and she's tired and sick enough to take the bottle, even from me.

Mike's been a horrible grouch and Russell has been a big HUGE ENORMOUS pain in the ass. He's lost all kinds of privileges today and for tomorrow. He's just not good at figuring out when to stay out of our hair. I'm on the phone with the pediatrician, the baby's blowing chunks in the livingroom and Russell is running in to breathlessly tell me that the poor thing is barfing again. Only he's excited and yelling at me, while I'm trying to talk to the advice nurse. So I tell him to shush, so I can hear the nurse and he leaves pouting and I feel like a big meanie.

That's not where it started. It started this morning after I took him to McDonalds and bought some breakfast while Mike and the babe slept. He got to have a yogurt parfait and play on the playground. We came back and I asked him to go around the car and lock the other door. He starts to dive in under my arm rather than go around, so I hold the door a little for him and then let it go. I don't know where he went, but it wasn't inside the car and then he started to bitch me out for "letting the door close." At which point, I looked at him and simply said,"Enough, Russell!" He kept at it, so I repeated it. Then I simply said,"You've lost TV for today."

He started screaming and yelling...he lost computer. Then he followed me into the house, sobbing as loud as he could, which of course, was shitty because the babe and the hubby were sleeping.

I told him he was to knock it off, so he kept it up and lost more stuff.

Then I chewed him out up one side and down the other for how disrespectful he was. How I'd taken him out for something special and he treated me like crap as a response. He was smartmouthing and then finally backed down and apologized...
when I reminded him that I had the power to take or NOT take him to the upcoming Pokemon movie.

Since then he's been much nicer and more helpful. On the other hand, Mike has been a total grouchy pain in the neck. He's upset his baby's sick and there's not much he can do except help clean up the puke and wash the laundry. Not particularly comforting to the baby or him.

Genny's asleep right now. I hope she sleeps for one of her 6-9 hour stints. She's only had an ounce of water and about 5-7 minutes of boob, so she will wake up hungry, if not pukey.

*sigh*