I jinxed myself yesterday. While Tank screamed non-stop all night long, even while being held, rocked, given her Nuk, snuggled, bounced, jounced, sung to, petted, etc., the Bear chose 3 am as the ideal time to start spewing all over the bed she happened to be sharing with her dad. Lucky me, I think, that I was on the couch with Tank, or I would have gotten hosed and had to poke her with stick, as per yesterday's warning.
Tonight, at least, we mastered a new skill - puking into the trash can. Which, as she informs me, is how big people do it. Nothing on the carpet, nothing on the clothes. Stealth vomit. "That's so awesome!" I told her in appreciation. "You're welcome for me puking in the trash can, Mom," she said, in her most nonchalant voice. Ridiculous child. She's about 15 inside that little frame.
Right now, though, everyone is asleep, soundly - no coughing, no puking, no screaming. I'll take what I can get.