Sometimes...

I'm typing this with one hand, because it's one of those days where Vivian can't be put down, or apparently change position, or be put in a sling.  I just finished typing three presentation critiques for the course I'm teaching with one hand and spreading butter on a bagel.  I remember these days from Sam as a newborn.  I will be very adept at the one handed tasks again soon.
Vivian is not a happy girl these past few days, gassy and miserable.  When I started this blog I didn't want to be a parent who wrote about toileting or bodily functions, but when it's your daily reality, things change.  Yesterday Vivian graced me with three bouts of projectile vomiting and on and off crying from 6:00 until 11:00 pm.  We're not really sure what is going on, and since I'm breastfeeding, I've cut a number of things out of my diet, pretty much to no avail.  I'm hoping this latest and greatest is just a bug and that it will pass.
Last night I finally escaped to a bar with a friend for an hour and a half and came back to a still unhappy girl.  Unfortunately, when my friend came to pick me up and asked how my day was, I told her.  Then she told me she was pregnant (with her first).  Oops.  I had to quickly backtrack and tell her about all the good things that come with babies and toddlers.
When I retrieved Vivian from Chris at 10:30, I retreated to the bedroom to give him some peace.  I finally got her quiet and on her way to sleep and heard gagging.  Now the cat was getting ready to throw up on the bed.  I managed to move her in such a way that she only got part of the bed, but enough that the comforter is in the washing machine, and a good portion of the floor.  Then Vivian naturally started crying again.  But then I look down at the little sleeping baby on me and forgive her for the loads of laundry and desire to be held and my state of sleepiness, and hopefully she'll forgive me for writing about her gas issues when she's old enough to be upset about it.