We've been busy around here, which I'm grateful for, since busy means that I'm actually participating in the human race. Thank you, second trimester.
I've resumed cooking dinner on the regular. I actually put away the folded laundry instead of letting it sit in the basket. I even brush my teeth as soon as I wake up. And, most importantly, I've fired the trifecta of babysitters that were Sprout, Nick Jr., and Disney Channel. Or "TeeTee" as we say in this house {TV}. Yes, there were some days it was all I could do to just lay on the couch and watch my girl play. I'm so glad those days are in my rear view, although she still brings me the remote control when the TV is off.
The end of February also brought Paul's birthday. He turned 36, which means we've officially spent half of our lives together. Talk about time flying. 18 years. Wow. Elena and I baked our first cake together. She was such a great helper and loved sitting on the counter pouring in all of the ingredients.
| Signing Daddy's card. |
| Happy Birthday, Daddy |
I wish I could say we ended the month on a high note. No. Elena came down with a stomach bug the day after Paul's birthday and threw up for the first time. Oh. My. God. It's something I knew was bound to happen, but it doesn't mean I was prepared. All I can say is thank GOD Paul was home. It's not the actual puke I mind. It's seeing her sick and helpless and scared. Having him home made us both feel better. I will say that girlfriend made it nice and easy---she only projectile vomited in the kitchen and on me. Honestly, I think I was more traumatized than her. Poor thing.
When she woke up that morning I could tell she had a tummy ache. She had an explosive poop the day before and the morning of she was super clingy and needy. She wouldn't eat breakfast, wouldn't drink her milk and kept lifting her PJ top and making a sad face as if she was saying, "Mommy, my belly hurts." I had a feeling in the back of my mind she might puke. At about noon, she walked into the kitchen, where I was, and projectile puked 3 times. I was so scared because I could tell she was scared. I was screaming for Paul, who was locked in the master bath on a work call. I'll spare you the pictures, because YES, there were pictures. While I was still drenched in puke Paul decided to bust out the DSLR to start documenting her first puke. All the while Lola was licking it up off of the floor. I can't make this shit up. She never puked again, thank goodness, but it took a good 2 days to get her back to herself. Boy, I'm glad she's back.
And I'm glad I'm back. Back to feeling like me again. March is gonna be a good one.





























