But i think Baby A is sick anyway. I've put her to bed five times this evening and each time she's woken up having barfed on herself from coughing. So that's five times i've changed the sheets. Although, i gave up on giving her a bath after the second time and instead merely sponge her down, change her jammies, pat her all over with hand-sanitizer and call it clean. She's upstairs now coughing in her sleep and whimpering without waking up because she's frustrated that she can't fully fall asleep. That in itself is enough to make a person cry.
Li'l A is in bed after what's got to be the lamest weekend ever--one where he tried to wait on me: Do you want Vicks? When your throat lozenges are gone JUST tell ME, I'LL get them for you! And played with "his baby" for hours on end while i mostly sat limp and dizzy on the floor. He also entertained the low appetite baby while i spoon-fed her mashed up fruit --in retrospect, i really wish we hadn't done that.
But all the baby barfing gave me a guilt-free pass to hold her all i want. And while i'm ready to cry from exhaustion, it also makes me laugh when i get to her room and sure enough, she's sitting there in barfbarfybarf--but when she sees me come in, turn on the lights, and pick her up: she's ready to party.
I want my Amma too.