We Get Knocked Down / But We Get Up Again

Sickness still.  You were awake from 2:30-3:30 last night.  Then up again at 4:30 and 5:30 and finally, 6:30 when we came downstairs and watched the sky lighten through the trees.  By that time your face looked like a mucus war zone, flecks of snot crusted all over your cheeks, mucus glistening in your eyebrow. 

Luckily, we drove up to Minneapolis yesterday so Gak and Ampa are lightening the load considerably: offering Thisbe long baths and pink goggles, holding you for considerable lengths of time in the steamy bathroom, throwing in two different loads of laundry today when you vomited over your PJs, Mama's PJ's, your blanket, the couch, and the easy chair.  We were all pretty worried about you this morning.  I spent some time Googling meningitis and cursing Man Camp.  But after Tylenol and a nap you perked up a little.  Ate without puking.  Offered a few smiles.  Showed a demonstrable interest in a squirrel wind-up toy.  Swatted at my hair.  And then, after an hour, promptly fell back asleep. 

On Wednesday and Thursday and Friday I was pretty chill about the whole baby-being-consumed-by-a-virus thing.  We even (rather stupidly) let you observe your sister as she attempted to ice skate yesterday.  Gak held you (bundled considerably) near the edge of the Linden Hills rink while Thisbe struggled to stand and then move in ice skates.  Being Thisbe, she refused to use the plastic ice trainer (that kids can hold on to and push in front of them while learning) and instead fell and fell again, yelled or cried at me when I tried to help her, and glowed triumphantly when she managed to shuffle across the thirty feet of ice between where we started in the middle of the rink and where you and Gak were watching.

Then we came home and sat at the small table and drank hot chocolate from tiny plastic goblets.  We built a fire and Thisbe unrolled a beach towel in front of it and Gak and Thiz and you and I ate Davanni's pizza and salad with marinated artichoke hearts while the snowflakes kept sweeping down outside.  It was quite lovely.  (Tempered a little by the concern today that my Norwegian, laissez-faire attitude about babies and winter weather has given you pneumonia).