I hope I'm not jinxing the 4 hours and 12 minutes left in this weekend, but holy cow has this been a test. Much of the weekend was actually quite nice. Julia was in a fun, silly mood for long stretches on both Friday and Saturday nights, and Genevieve's cooing is reaching cuteness-crisis proportions.
But almost everything came apart around 8:30 p.m. on Saturday, when Julia started a nine-hour puking spree. It started with her plaintively crying out,"What happened?", continued through our having to watch her erupt with truly staggering quantities of vomit, and wound slowly and sadly down with me holding her in my lap while she dozed but woke over and over to throw up again and again. Given these horrific conditions, she was a good trouper: despite the trauma of encountering the previously-unknown horror of vomiting, she was in a good mood almost all day on Sunday (excepting a puking coda during her nap) and she did a good job enjoying her recuperation, like watching her favorite video twice and having a popsicle for dinner. Here's hoping the bug skips the rest of us, and leaves Jujee alone, too.