I guess I have my answer. Maya got sick in the middle of the night last night. She hadn't had an appetite for a few days, and then in the middle of the night, we heard her crying. When I went into her room, she had... well... exploded. When I was in third grade, my teacher (Mrs. Meyer) hated when people used the words "barf," "puke," or "throw up." Instead, she insisted that we use the term "unswallow." At the time, I was like, yeah, okay, that's fine. Now I think it's bizarre, but in order to keep Maya's blog pretty and clean, we'll just say that Maya proceeded to, um, unswallow for an hour or so before she fell asleep again. This morning, after her third bath in 12 hours, she seems to be feeling better, and is much happier. She still isn't ready to eat solid food, but she's being her sweet self, and I'm just hoping that she doesn't deteriorate throughout the day. I hate to see that muffin so sick, but I guess it was a good initiation into parenthood. Thank goodness Kevin was home, because there was a lot to be done (laundry, changing sheets, bathing baby, etc.). Tonight I'm on my own (he is on call), so I'm hoping it's totally uneventful.
"Mommy and I did lots of good playing yesterday. I didn't realize I was sick at the time. I thought I just wasn't hungry."
"This is me getting ready for my bedtime tubby. Mommy and Daddy didn't know I had rumbles in my tummy yet."
"I feel a little better today. Mommy put me in these comfy clothes and gave me a paci so I'd feel happier. Thanks, Mommy."