Barfapalooza 2011.

My husband and I woke this morning at 7:15. We rejoiced, because normally our baby girl wakes us at 6 A.M. or earlier.

By the time 8:45 rolled around and Nellie was still asleep, we chuckled at the irony. Of all the days to choose to sleep in, she chose the one where we were wide awake just after 7.

By 10:30, she was awake and guzzling a sippy of milk like her life depended on it.

By 10:32, she had projectile-vomited all over me, the couch, and the floor. She looked around, dazed, as her parents sprung into action to clean up the baby and the mess. I took the baby, daddy took the mess. She cried during her bath, after her bath, and right up until I put her back down to sleep.

The rest of the day was more or less the same. She woke a while later, drank some more, puked it back up. Back into the bath, clean-up, back down to sleep. I ran out to get Chinese food for me and Josh. Gave a hungry homeless man $20, which I never do, because the only other bills I had in my wallet were $4. He cried when I handed him the $20.

Came back. Ate. Nellie drank some more. Threw it back up. Bath #3. Back to bed. Daddy ran out for provisions after Nellie went back to sleep yet again and I jumped on Twitter, asking my parent friends what we should do. We’re between insurances right now and Nellie’s coverage doesn’t start back up until the 1st of June. General consensus was: small sips, don’t let her guzzle, duh. Okay, no one said duh. That was me. No milk; PediaLyte. If she won’t drink PediaLyte, get the clear stuff and sneak it into juice or Sprite. Nellie ended up not wanting to touch her sippy cup at all so being the sneaky and clever mama that I am, I fixed a cup of ginger ale and PediaLyte. She drank it in small sips. Ate some Ritz crackers. Stayed awake for about three hours and went down for the night around 6:30.

I’m anticipating a rough night, seeing as how she was asleep most of the day. And that’s okay. I just want her to feel better. I’ve never felt truly helpless until my child was sick, and there was little I could do to help her. I’ve been snuggling and rocking with her all day in between washing myself of the vomit. I just want her to feel better.

Likely very few people will read this right now; most people are out enjoying the beginning of summer and their Memorial Day weekend and by the time you do read this, the Barfapalooza 2011 festivities will have ended. Just in case you want to party with us, it’s BYOBB: Bring Your Own Barf Bucket.