I am writing in a howling whirlwind. A toddler whirlwind, that is. Sweetpea, my independent middle child who turns two next week, has a cold, and she is enraged at the indignity of it.

When Sweetpea is healthy and fed, she is a serene child, round and fair, with peaceful eyes that take my breath away. But when she is sick or hungry she becomes a wee curly-locked Job, demanding heaven explain itself. For two days now she has had a stuffy nose that either drips (”Aaaaaah! Wipe it off!”) or prevents her from sucking her thumb (”WAAAAAHHHH!!!!”).

At 2 am two nights ago, instead of crying like lesser unhappy mortals, she yelled for a solid twenty minutes - in bed, in my arms, being rocked and patted, all without opening her eyes or fully waking. The universe has offended her with this illness, and she demands redress. Mama, make it better NOW! Alas, I cannot. She has not held a grudge so far, but that day is coming. She has her mama’s temper after all.

JellyBean is finally back to her old self.

The doctor said that she might have stomach cramps even after the other symptoms were gone, and that might affect her appetite. She recommended a teaspoon of Mylanta a few times a day, so yesterday JellyBean drank her dose, and immediately asked for breakfast. She ate well all day, and even requested water to drink.

Just in case I needed more reassurance, I was upstairs reading your blogs when I heard the shrieks from downstairs: “Mine! Mine! Share! Shaaaaaaarrrrre!” JellyBean and Sweetpea were debating ownership of a coveted book (Karaoke Kid Songbook, if you really want to know).

It takes energy to be selfish. I never thought it would make me so happy.

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Last night I started having contractions fifteen minutes apart. They have eased this morning, so it may not mean much, but I can see the finish line. I am a little worried about finding someone to take care of the kids - a few friends and neighbors have volunteered, but mid-week could be difficult for them. We will find someone, I’m sure, but I am anxious.

If I go to the hospital, I have left Az instructions on how to post the good news of the birth. I am not sure if he will post the name we choose; he may prefer me to find an oblique way to inform you of our choice, and he does not know how to link or post pictures. But one way or another, you will see our new bundle of joy when she comes, even if you have to wait a few days.

Thank you all for your prayers. They have been much appreciated.

JellyBean is still bafflingly sick, mentally alert but unwilling to get out of bed, and reluctant to drink enough fluids. I finally persuaded her to eat today, but she was only willing to eat dry Cheerios. The vomiting stopped, but yesterday she was exploding from the other end, and we were low on pull-ups, so I went to the grocery store to stock up.

I pushed my cart around the store, checking out the sales, filling the cart with the convenience foods I settle for when pregnant. I felt a little grateful that the cart blocked the inch or two between where my shirt stopped and my pants began.

When I finally made it to the checkout line, pull-ups acquired, the girl behind the counter gave me the once-over and asked, “When are you due?”

The conversation went on from there. Was it a boy or a girl? How many children did I have? How old were they? I answered her questions a little uncomfortably, but I answered them. She was surprised that my girls were so young.

“I figured you’d probably have a girl my age,” she said.

I did a little math in my head. Oh. In my neighborhood it’s not especially unusual to have a first baby when you are eighteen. She had a point.

So I have a sick little girl who is keeping me worried all the time, I am hugely and uncomfortably pregnant, and I am old. Great day.

Sweetpea recovered from her sickness and is now happy and healthy. Now JellyBean is sick.

Two nights ago she stayed up all night vomiting. I used to think that was a hyperbole. Apparently, it can actually take a 3-yr-old ten hours to empty that little tummy, in intervals of 30 minutes.

She is keeping stuff down now, but she had a fever of 102.8 a few minutes ago, and she is quite lethargic. We are doing our best to keep her hydrated, but she often refuses to drink, and has little interest in food.

It is rough around here. We have seen the doctor once and may do so again tomorrow, depending on her condition.

I worry. I pray. I worry.

I hope I don’t go into labor until she is better. I don’t know how we would manage.