Fricking Fate

I try not to be a superstitious person. I feel like there's not enough room in the universe for there to be spirits and fate and then throw in a little Murphy's Law because things just aren't exciting enough as is. But I've had too many nights like this to kick my superstitious habits.

Yes, it's 2am am I'm lying here with the snoring husband and the twitchy daughter who have both managed to fall back into their respective grumpy slumbers after yet another bedtime puke mishap. My foul self is too annoyed to sleep because I cockily assumed we were in the clear and decided it would be okay to go to bed with a towel at the ready instead of beneath us. I even did my best to make sure the first feeding of the night was not too large, to keep from upsetting that delicate little belly.

Alas, a second night feeding, a moment of Oh No There Goes The Gag Reflex Brace Yourself, a sponge bath, a fresh bout of tears on Bella's behalf, and a sour husband later, no one is safe- not even the comforter. Tomorrow, for everyone's sake (especially if I get around to washing the bed) we'll be sleeping again on a towel. At least until the puke-free days outnumber the pukey ones. Knock on wood.

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Seriously. While I'm transcribing this from my scrap of paper that I wrote last night, Bella gets a hold of the tiniest piece of paper imaginable and proceeds to expel it and her dinner all over the carpet. And THEN I picked up my computer which I had placed off my lap onto an ottoman to run to the rescue of the carpet daughter, and realized I had set it on a runaway chocolate chip. Now myself, the ottoman and the computer are covered in melted chocolate. Ahhh. I wonder if taking a shower at this hour would be too much temptation for fate. At least I don't plan to have any company any time soon who can't handle the smell of raising a child...

And now to end on a more peaceful note: