Cresting over my shoulder

My office hour is about to start. We'll see if anyone comes today, or if I get this post finished today.

We've had a good summer and fall, puke-wise. The Maestro traditionally goes on a food-strike whenever he gets a cold, because the mucus ends up in his stomach, and anything else that goes in makes him throw up. I blame Riley's genes for this. I think that not eating wheat has helped him. He's only had one cold since the spring, that I remember, and he didn't throw up with it.

Hildr has a cold right now. Tuesday night, she wouldn't eat any dinner, and just wanted to lay with her head on my shoulder. About 1:30 in the morning, I was laying in bed, listening to her softly gagging in the other room. I wasn't worried, because she has always insisted on sleeping on her stomach, much to the horror of pediatricians everywhere. (Riley is now upset that I have shared this with the world.) Soon, however, she fully woke up and started to cry. I didn't think that she would go back to sleep without some soymilk, because she didn't eat any dinner; and low-blood sugar does that to my kids. Riley blames my genes for this. So I got up, helped her drain a sippy-cup, and she fell asleep in my arms.

As I was slowly lowering her back into her crib, it happened. Hack! Puking down into her bed understandably woke her up, and she was upset. It was dark, so I didn't know how much had come up, and how much was on her, or anything. I started down the hall to the bathroom, but only made it into the hallway before round two started. I stepped back into her bedroom, on the spot just between the hallway carpet and the area rug. Once I was over linoleum, I just stood there as the waves of sticky soymilk vomit crested over my right shoulder and cascaded down my back and onto the floor. Once, twice, three times a lady.

It turned out that Hildr was relatively clean, and Riley took her to bed while I cleaned everything up. This is not among my favorite reasons to need a shower at 1:30 in the morning.

I made it back to bed to find that Hildr had developed Twitchy-leg syndrome, and wouldn't stop kicking me. This will not do. I started to take her back to her bed and made it almost to the door when I discovered that her stomach wasn't empty yet. Oops. Luckily, the dirty laundry basket was handy and she was pointed mostly away from me.

I decided that I could sleep better on the couch.

Wednesday is the Maestro's usual day for his cello lesson. It didn't happen this week. He is still 15 bow holds away from his real bow, and I think he has to be able to show Hildegard that he can do a whole variation of Twinkle on his Tucka Bow. Riley thinks he needs to be able to do all the variations, but I don't remember Hildegard saying that. That's not an issue until he does 15 more bow holds and can show Hildegard one variation, so not today, at least. I think we've rescheduled for Saturday/