Not that I turned a one-eighty and now ENJOY simultaneous diarrhea and vomit BUT we have now deduced that the post-Thanksgiving "cleanse" I suffered was most likely viral. I don't understand why this somehow comforts me and makes me think that I might one day enjoy a turkey dinner with all the trimmings again, but it does. We're still having ham for Christmas dinner but at least I have hope. It's kinda like getting sick off a staple item like spaghetti: You can't eat it for a while but you eventually get over it because, well, it's spaghetti. Not like that one time my husband got sick after eating buttered popcorn at the movies. It's been seven years and he still can't even handle the SMELL of popcorn. That has really put a dent in my "healthy snack" rotation, people. In fact, I blame ALL the cookies on my husband's aversion to popcorn popping in the microwave. Yes, dear. You heard me right. These extra 30 pounds? Your fault. Yep. And don't even MAKE me bring up the fact that YOU are the one who knocked me up.
How do we know the throwup-fest was viral? Welp, my sister got it … a day later (and I quote: "It's ok Manda … I only threw up eight times. Way less than you"). And then I was nice enough to share the love with Lily, Troy, and their 6-month-old daughter, who were all violently ill this week. I'm pretty sure that getting the baby sick pretty much fast-tracks me for Hell, don't you agree?
So I'm up. Like, right now. It's 12:51 a.m. (Pacific). I've been doing this all week. It's so quiet and the baby's sleeping and I can just do WHATEVER I want … whenever I want. Even go to the bathroom without readjusting 45 things first (although when I was in there just now the toilet wouldn't stop running so I had to take the top off the back of the toilet and move the candles and plant that were there. Of course I somehow knocked a candle over and that knocked the plant over so there was dirt EVERYWHERE and I had to clean that up, GAAAAH)! I've unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, taken out all the trash, switched over the laundry (it's in our unattached garage so it's not so convenient to switch), cruised blogs, worked on a project for work … and before 10 p.m. I feel like I didn't do much else all day but nurse Sydney. The irony of all this is that for the last few days Syd has woken up at 5 a.m. wanting to nurse. She usually gets up between 7:30 and 8:30 so I'm totally spoiled and have NO IDEA what to do when she gets up that early. I somehow wrench myself up long enough to feed her/keep her occupied until John gets up around 8 then go back to bed. Too bad he only gets Friday and Saturday mornings off … what will I do tomorrow if she gets up again?! AND YET, here I am. Motherhood has turned me into some kind of crazy junkie: I stay up late anyway to get my fix of "me" time and get all my crap done. Even though I'm exhausted I can't just GO TO BED.
And what is with babies after you travel with them and mess up their sleep routines ANYWAY? Dang! It's been Russian roulette here all week: One night she went to bed at 5 p.m. and didn't wake up until 5 a.m. the next day (I KNOW! I WAS FREAKED!!) and then the next night she won't go to bed until midnight … instead of her usual 9 p.m. Some days she'll nap and some days (like today) she won't nap and she just fusses and catnaps in the middle of nursing all day. It's craziness I tell you!
Ok, speaking of craziness, I'm going to bed. 1:17 a.m. is about as much as I can handle anymore. And yes, College Manda is laughing her butt off at Mom Manda. Remember when going to bed at 1 am was considered EARLY? Mwhahahahahahahaha!