My god, we had the most horrible night last night! Between Olof and me we were up and down with one kid or another at least a half-dozen time. Petra slept like a champ, like she always does, but Tage and Lydia put us through the wringer.

Tage’s afflictions were of the sickness and bed-wetting variety, but Lydia’s were entirely imaginary. A little after two in the morning she came in to our room and wanted to sleep with us. We told her there wasn’t enough room and when she protested going back to her own room we sent her in to sleep with Tage. When Tage wet the bed an hour or so later, I tried again to send her back to her bedroom, but she ended up on the couch instead. This morning she told me that she had had a headache and couldn’t sleep because she was worried she might have a brain tumor. I’ve lain awake many times myself with the same worry on my mind (that I had one, I mean, not that she did), and I really hope that she’s not starting down the path of anxiety and worry that plagues me sometimes.

I was supposed to go out to Debbie’s with a few other friends this afternoon to see the new baby, but I was too worn-out to do anything much beyond sitting around in my sweatpants all day. I’ve been feeling queasy and headachy, too, and it’s probably just as well that we kept our germ-ridden selves away from little Edwin. I’m hoping for an early night tonight, but I hope for that every night and I can’t remember the last time that hope was fulfilled. Drat.