You know, just in case you were wondering.
I'm still hacking and coughing and snotting my way through the day.

Yesterday was hard.
Actually, "hard" can't begin to describe it. In fact, the ability to get up this morning without tears coming to my eyes due to the pressure in my head made me think I could make it in to work today. I'm such an idiot. However, we have a long weekend coming up because this part of the world still celebrates one religion. I can rest tomorrow. (HA! Rest! With a toddler! HA!)

However, at least I'm able to walk.

Yesterday, while D was at work, I stayed home with a snotty, coughing and yet incredibly hyper little boy. How is it that when he's sick sick sick, but doesn't have a fever, he seems more animated than normal?

Perhaps it's in direct relation to myself - the parent who's head is between her knees and drool is coming out of her mouth while trying to trace Thomas and his harem of coaches on the paper we've covered the floor with.

Oh God, yesterday was hard.

I might have to say, yesterday was up there with those bouts of mastitis where I was trying to take care of a screaming baby while my breasts felt like burning poison filled sacks of useless crap and I had about 3 hours of sleep for the last 4 days.

It's funny to write that now because many people will think it's an exaggeration and it wasn't. Yeah, another baby? Hmmmm, I'm not so sure. Can I have a wet-nurse the next time?

I guess now would be a funny time to congratulate Flo and Todd on their little fetus?
No worries, it's not always this bad. Sometimes breast-feeding goes okay and something else goes wrong.

Hey! Labour's a piece of cake!

(Oh, and remind me to tell you about Franklin calling 911 last night. Fun.)