Tonight around 9:30, after finally getting Julia to sleep and having a few moments of quiet, I drug myself towards the kitchen, mumbling in my head, as not to risk waking them.
"I don't wanna fold laundry, make my lunch, pack my pump bag, do the dishes, clean the kitchen, wash two, wait-three, Antonio barfed tonight, more loads of laundry"

Opened the dryer to pull out fluffy clean clothes, and was greeted by a lump of lukewarm clothes. I forgot to change the setting from air fluff to heat dry.
Sweet.
I think I may have something to wear tomorrow.

Yes, Antonio puked. Poor guy.
When he first started complaining that his stomach was hurting, I thought it was because he was hungry.
But in the back of my head I really knew better.
He said he didn't want dinner, he just wanted orange juice.
I gave him some.
Still, his tummy hurrrrtttt!
So, I make him an almond butter sandwich and glass of soy milk.

At some point while making dinner, Julia had pulled herself up to stand at Antonio's toy chest, fell and whacked her eye, so add in trying to ice down a baby who doesn't want to be iced down.
Sometimes, I really should just throw in the towel and order pizza.

I grab my dinner, and the baby and dine in the bathroom while supervising her bath.

Then I hear The Cough.
The only Cough that can be made over a toilet at the end of a wretch.
I pull the baby out of the bath & wrap her in a towel and go over to comfort Antonio.
He's done, but needs to be showered off, as he splashed on his foot, and he'd freak if he realized it.

I get him situated back in bed, with a puke towel and then am able to get the girl in jammies and get her to sleep.

Now I wait for the dryer to go off, so I can fold the first load of laundry and hopefully get to sleep soon.

Good news though, we've just made it past the halfway mark of Geno's deployment!