Well. The weekend went better than I'd feared. Matt has bronchitis, not the flu. I've never thought of being grateful for bronchitis before, but it's got a specific remedy of antibiotics (instead of flu's "get some rest and take plenty of liquids") and, more importantly, it's far less contagious. Matt's doctor thought he was safe to handle the baby as long as he washed his hands frequently and didn't cough in her face.

So while I tried to take her as much as I could, if only to let him rest, he did take her from time to time to give me a breather. And he was feeling recovered enough on Sunday to do the lion's share of our laundry and other chores.

Penny helped out, too, in her own small way. She was cute and adorable for my family when I took her over to visit Friday and Saturday, and was unusually calm about being put down and left on her own for periods of time as long as half an hour, which let Matt and I get a lot more accomplished.

After another rough night Friday night, I decided that if I was going to be doing the middle-of-the-night feeding(s) while Matt was sick, then she had to be broken of her recently-acquired habit of waking up and screaming whenever we tried to put her down in her crib. It was stretching each feeding to an hour or more, and I was just too tired to do it. So Saturday night when I put her down for the first time and she started crying, I leaned over to hug her and soothe her until she was quiet, and then I stood up and went to rinse out her bottle, even though she started fussing again right away.

About the time I came back - maybe two minutes later - she stopped in mid-cry, distracted by some shape in one of her toys. I left the light on and went to bed. She fussed, off and on, for another ten minutes or so, but finally fell asleep on her own.

She didn't wake up early, either. She slept for a good six hours (which meant Matt and I got to sleep for a good six hours - something we hadn't been able to do for nearly a week) before waking up for her mid-night feeding. When I put her down again and she started to cry, she soothed pretty quickly, even with the lights out.

Sunday night was even better. She woke up but didn't fuss at all when I put her down the first time, and then the second time she barely blinked one eye open before closing it again. And, again, she slept about six hours before getting hungry enough to fuss. (Actually, I think if she hadn't woken herself up coughing, she probably would've slept even longer. The coughing woke me up a good half-hour before she got fussy.)

So I think she's finally back to her previous schedule of only getting up once a night, and I'm much better rested than I expected to be this morning. (Which is not to say rested. Just not as badly exhausted as I thought.)

On the other hand, I'm developing a cough of my own. It's too early to say whether I've caught Penny's cold or Matt's bronchitis. Obviously, I'm praying it's just the cold, but if I start to run any kind of fever, I'll call my doctor. And I'll be pounding the tea at work today. We are far too busy for me to get really sick, especially before Matt's finished his run of antibiotics.

I got my holiday shopping done, finally, and am almost done wrapping things. Matt's sending out the packages that have to be sent out today. I don't think they'll arrive in time for Christmas, but they should get there fairly shortly afterward.

So, all in all, not a bad weekend. Not quite as good as I could hope, but certainly far better than it could have been.

Which - being a new parent in the winter with a house full of sick people - is probably about all I can ask for.

--Liz