We slept in 20 minute bursts last night with a perfect rhythm of sleep— baby vomits— throw towel in ever growing laundry pile— give baby water in sippy— sleep— baby vomits, ad nauseum. Literally.
I’m recovering, because I feel better than I’d expect after that night. She’s recovering, because she’s having fishy crackers and water with her Papaw, who is now called, adorably, Bobbaw. She’s talking a lot and learning really cute ways to say stuff. My favorite is Wah-Yee for water. And also Love You, which comes out different every time and only when prompted but has exactly the correct inflection to convey unconditional toddler love.
Since I’m on a major roll with the mama gush, let me say that having an asthma episode is really sweet with a bouncy little pixie on my lap holding the breathing tube for my nebulizer and making funny gestures about the mist that look like she is miming somebody doing bonghits.