Only two days have passed since Emily returned to day care, and already she's sick. She woke up crying around 1:30 this morning, and I came downstairs to find her in a puddle of vomit. She'd thrown up in her bed so it was all over the sheets, the pillow, her pajamas, and her hair. And, of course, when I scooped her up to carry her into the bathroom, it got all over me too. Miraculously, the three stuffed animals that she likes to sleep with managed to avoid the mess.
After a bath and tooth brushing, Misty and I brought Emily upstairs to sleep in the guest room. She wanted one of us to sleep with her, so I volunteered. I knew I probably wouldn't sleep, but I also knew that since Misty only returned to work two days ago, it would be easier for me to get the day off. She'd need sleep more than me. I was right, too. For three hours Emily kicked me in the groin and smacked me in the face as she flopped around in bed. I don't know how she stays asleep while moving around that much.
At 5 a.m. I headed back to my own bedroom, figuring that something must have just disagreed with her stomach and that the worst was over. Within 10 minutes, she was throwing up again. Another set of sheets went in the washing machine. She's thrown up a couple more times since then, too.
Now I'm just waiting for the pediatrician's office to open so I can get her over there. Emily's been watching cartoons while I worked online. At one point on Little Einsteins, the kids asked the audience to sing along to help them out and Emily said, "But I don't want to sing; I don't feel good."