womp womp

Posted on: 20 June 2013

Last night was a bit of a gongshow.

Ashelyn seemed tired, so I put her to bed at 8:30. I don’t fall asleep myself until 1:30. Dumb, yes, but I’m desperately behind on a bunch of translation work (as well as blogging).

3:30AM – Ashelyn wakes with a stuffed-up nose. Her thwarted attempts to nurse wake us both up. Then I notice that she has weird little welty bumps on different areas of her body. WHAT.

Bug bites? I’d brought her to band practice Tuesday evening, and she’d gotten some from the trip. These look kind of similar, more welt-y. Yet nothing had bitten me. Allergic reaction? But to what?

I think of waking Kevin, then think better of it. He has a fully-booked day tomorrow. Wait, that means he’ll be out all day. How am I going to survive on two hours of sleep??

What with all the on-and-off light switching, nose wiping, examining of the mysterious bumps, looking for the snotsucker, finding it in the cloth wipes basket in the living room … I’m wide awake, but what’s worse, so is Ashelyn. Crap. I start to see the light of dawn filtering through the curtains.

5:30AM – Ashelyn is finally asleep again. That means I can sleep too. We sleep till 11AM.

Come “morning,” the bumps seem to have vanished without a trace. (??) But it’s apparent that Ashelyn has a cold. Her nose is a leaky faucet, and she’s coughing. (Incidentally, none of her previous colds ever involved coughing.)

Then, in the afternoon, she has a mini coughing fit while breastfeeding, which causes her to choke, which causes her to throw up on me. And since I can’t shower till evening, I pretty much smell like rancid milk for the remainder of the day.



4 Responses to "womp womp"

I hope your daughter’s cold is under control now and that the welts were nothing serious.

I have no idea what they could be, but they haven’t seemed to cause any trouble! =/

I’ve not been puked on yet, but I do not look forward to christening by vomit. Get better soon!

Thanks! Ashelyn was never a puker or spitter-upper, thank goodness. It’s the worst. (And messes up my laundry schedule, heh.)

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