Aren't you glad I shared?

Aaaaaaand we're back after a long hiatus (unplanned hiatus I should specify - turns out I can't cook Christmas dinner, entertain guests, try and keep the house from looking like a bomb site, help Eloise play with all her new presents AND blog at the same time).

So Happy Christmas, Happy New Year etcetera etcetera. I come back from this blogging pause with an announcement...we won worst parents of the week award! (oh, you were totally thinking I was going to say I'm pregnant! or The Frenchman and I are finally going to stop living in sin! well, no).

Eloise woke up this morning after sleeping through the night - a bit of a rarity in this house - at 6:45am. I let her cry a little bit and she fell back asleep for another 45 minutes (sweet!) and at 7:30 I decided she'd been stuck in her crib long enough. The sickly sweet smell of barf hit me like a wall when I opened her bedroom door. I quickly turned on the light and there she was, happily smiling at me covered in pink vomit. Stuck in her hair, dried into her blankets, smeared into her sheet. While our dinner of whole wheat spaghetti with seafood in a cream sauce was delicious last night, the sequel this morning was vile. From the state of her sick I would say she had thrown up well before we went to bed, probably while we were eating our own dinner, drinking a couple glasses of Sauvignon Blanc and commenting on how poor Eloise's cough was pretty loud as it came through the monitor we barely pay attention to these days.

This picture has nothing to do with vomit!

So let me make this clear. My daughter, the one who is a sensitive sleeper, the one who cries at night when she has a cold, when her skin is dry, when she'd rather be showing off some new motor skill she's just acquired. That daughter threw-up a pile of regurgitated crustaceans and then WENT BACK TO SLEEP FOR THE REST OF THE NIGHT.