Mean people suck

I have spent the past week mentally hiding under the covers.  Do you notice that in the parts of the internet world that you visit, things happen in waves?  Or is that just me?  On the good days, everything I read, every site I visit, it's funny and happy and I feel better for having spent those hours merrily clicking around.  


But on the bad days, I click around and suddenly find myself in The Bad Part of Town.  One minute I'm reading about a recipe that I might like to try, because I will never let go of the notion that one day I will call a truce with food and we will actually have a good and healthy relationship.  Then, the next minute I've found myself on some site that is bashing everything about the internet, blogging, bloggers who are on the internet and birds.  Who hates birds?!?!


I hate when that happens.  It takes the wind out of my sails.  It makes me want to stop blogging for fear that I'll end up on those sites, with anonymous people ripping apart my life simply because I feel compelled to write and share.  I have a thick skin and I can give as good as I get, but doing that is never satisfying.  Verbally cutting someone to the bone never feels as good as you think it will when you play it out in your head.  Those cool one-liners, those zingers, that snark (which is a word I've really had enough of) always seem to fall flat when they hit the air.


I'm tired of mean people.  I'm tired of people hiding behind their 'anonymous' shields and being just plain hateful because no one can look into their eyes.  It's really hard to look someone in the face and deliver your cool, biting one-liner and then pat yourself on the back when you can see their shoulders slump, the light leaving their eyes.  So instead we get on our computers and get all 'Mean Girl' on people because you don't have to see their eyes when you type out your mean comment that probably took you twenty minutes and countless backspaces to get it right.  Then again, maybe not.  Maybe the mean-ness is right there at your fingertips, just waiting for the moment to pounce.  Either way, it's gross.


I hate being reminded that the world is an ugly place.  I hate remembering that people sometimes suck.


Blogging/writing is fun for me and I treasure the friends that I've made through our blogs.  But honestly, clicking around and finding all the trash and the hate and the general ugliness out there has really made me want to just close my computer and never open it again.


But of course, I haven't.  I've been feeling this way for days now, swearing I wouldn't bother writing about it because who cares that I'm whining that people are mean on the internet.  Color me naive, but I was really shocked that there are so many websites devoted to ripping apart other bloggers and their lives, whether they write about fashion, lifestyle, cooking or birds.  And there are so many comments on these sites, all chiming in with their mob mentality.  I was just so turned off, but like a fool, I kept reading and kept clicking and getting sadder by the moment.  It made me want to take my ball and go home.


What benefit is there to being mean for being mean's sake?  Why do people suck?

Birthday prep: Decorations

Sofia's birthday party is in 75 days, but who's counting?  My baby will be one.


..........

Okay, I'm back.  Had to wail and gnash the teeth, you know how that goes.  I am so excited for her birthday and the planning has already begun.  If you follow me on Pinterest, you'll see all the ideas I have and the theme I've chosen.  If you don't follow me or if you haven't been introduced to the fabulous time-suck that is Pinterest, here are a couple of pictures.

I've rented this chair for her photoshoot for her invitations.

Image courtesy Rent My Dust

I'm going for a garden party theme - here's hoping I can pull it off!

Image courtesy Hostess Blog

But the thing I was most excited about were the mobiles.  I wanted to do them for my baby shower in Dallas but I was too intimidated to make them because it involved sewing and I ran out of time to gather my courage.  If I knew then what I know now, I would scoff at myself.  SELF! I would say, This is so flippin easy!  What are you so scared of?!

So pretty and so easy!

Image courtesy Apartment Therapy

I found a paper store, bought some vellum and the package sat in my house for over a week because I was so nervous.  Finally, this Saturday I got it together and with some moral support from Drew, I dove in.

I bought one sheet of every color they had because 

I didn't know what combination I'd like best.

I pulled out my handy paper cutter from my scrapbooking days.

I eyeballed the length and cut roughly one-inch strips.

Can I say what a beautiful world it is when your baby naps?

Then we laid out possible combinations.

"Now, this particular layout will provide optimal aesthetic value."

You guys!  It was so easy to do!  One straight stitch down the middle and you've got an awesome hanging mobile!

Me:  Eeeee! It worked! But I need better light.

Him:  *siiiiiggggghhh*

Me:  That's a little better, but I need to see them all together.

Him:  *walking out of the room*

Me:  Baaabe!  Where you going?  Whatever.

I can admire my handiwork my own self.

The bottom definitely needs a little weight of some sort to keep the last strip from curling.

I'm looking for some little crystals or even little charms 

with her initials - that would be so cute!

Plus, they move so pretty and zen-like!

I'm so crafty from Desiree on Vimeo.

Oh yes, I took a video.

I am *that* proud of my accomplishment.

I used mostly the pastel sheets for the mobiles, but I made some with the brights just to see how they'd look.

Even though it's pretty, the red and orange don't say

'garden party' to me.

And since I was on a crafty roll and I had my scrapbooking stuff out, I went ahead and made a Baby Sleeping sign.

I think it conveys the point.

The mobiles were so inexpensive and so easy to make that it's safe to say that there are going to be roughly a billion of them hanging from every possible surface for her party.  I'm not sure of other decorations yet, but this one is a go!

Next up, The Cake.  Yup, I'm going to try my hand at making her cake.  I might even try some cake pops again, you never know!

Attempted murder, infanticide, elective surrogacy and mommy guilt: A children's story

At my baby shower, I used books as centerpieces. 

 I bought some and received some as gifts.

my inspiration photo

*And I just spent five minutes re-reading my post about it.  

My baby shower was this time last year.  Whoa.

I love having a little library for Sofia and I'm even more excited that she's starting to show interest in books.  During our playtime slash learning time (courtesy of The Schedule) I've started reading out loud to Sofia while she plays with her blocks and she's actually starting to pay attention!  Before now, I hadn't really paid attention to the books that she has because I couldn't get her to sit still long enough to read them to her so they were mostly for show.  

This is why I didn't know I had a children's book about attempted murder, infanticide, elective surrogacy and mommy guilt sitting on our living room shelf.

Sofia was sitting on the floor, innocently banging her blocks together and I innocently chose a book from the shelf.  Beatrix Potter, aww!  Peter Rabbit, aww!  Look Sofia!  Mommy's going to read you a Beatrix Potter book!

No - Mommy's going to freak the F out.

Have you read The Tale of Jemima Puddle-Duck?  That shit is CRAZY!!

Lookin all innocent.

All lies!!

My girl Jemima just wants to be a mom, but the farmer keeps taking her eggs and won't let her hatch them.  Only a few sentences in and I gasped.  "She just wants to be a mom!  Bitch-ass farmer keeps taking her eggs!"

Jemima's sister-in-law doesn't see what the big deal is and looks down her nose, er, beak at Jemima, talkin shit like Hatching your own eggs is stupid and you wouldn't catch me doing that shit.  Besides, you're not the brightest Jemima.  You'd let them go cold, you know you would!

I found myself getting mad at Rebeccah Puddle-Duck.  "Oh, so you're not even too posh to push, you're too posh to even carry!  And get off Jemima!  If she wants to hatch her own eggs let her, you tramp!"

Jemima even tried to hide her eggs from the farmer so she could hatch them because she just wants to be a mom! but the farmer kept finding them and taking them from her.  So she runs away, so the damn farmer will quit taking her eggs.

By now I'm entrenched.  I was still reading out loud to the baby, but she had lost interest and had crawled away.  I kept an eye on her and kept on reading out loud.  I was rooting for Jemima.  I wanted her to be a mom.

So, Jemima ran away to find a safe place where she could lay her eggs and hatch them herself.  She found a nice spot, and came across "an elegantly dressed gentleman" with "prick ears and sandy coloured whiskers."

Don't fall for it girl!

It's always the well-dressed ones!

He was all suave and debonair, asking if she lost her way, if he might be of assistance.  Mmm-HMM.  WTF-ever.  Jemima told him about her bitch-ass sister-in-law and he was all "I would never let anyone talk to you like that."  "Do you need a place to lay your eggs?  As a matter of fact, I have a place you can stay, just around the corner."

I started yelling at the book in my mind, so my daughter wouldn't think I was too crazy.  

GIIIIRRRRL!  Don't be stupid!  Isn't it just a little too convenient that he's got a place where you can stay?  It's all run-down and scabby looking!  Talkin bout 'this is his summer home.'  That's what they all say!  Red flag, girl, Red Flag!!!

He showed her to the shed! out back! not even the main house! where she can 'stay as long as she'd like' and it's knee-deep in feathers.  Duck feathers.  But poor Jemima doesn't even see it.  

"The shed was almost quite full of feathers - it was almost suffocating(!!!!!); but it was comfortable and very soft."

"Jemima Puddle-duck was rather surprised to find such a vast quantity of feathers."

I was scared for Jemima Puddle-duck.  This wasn't right and she didn't even see it!  For god's sake, the 'gentleman' told her to her face that he loved eggs and ducklings!  How could she not see what was happening?  

But I get it.  Her desire to hatch her own eggs and be a mom clouded everything else.  Poor Jemima Puddle-duck.  

She laid her eggs and the "foxy gentleman admired them immensely."  (Get your grubby hands off her eggs, you bastard!)  She even told him that she was going to sit on her eggs the next day, and even bring food so she wouldn't have to leave because she wanted to make sure her eggs didn't catch cold.

I caught a sob at that, because I'm sure she heard her nagging, bitch-ass sister-in-law's voice in her head and she wanted to make double sure she did a good job.

And of course the fox was all "I got you baby.  You don't even have to worry about all that.  I got some tasty-ass oats right here!  But before you start all that hard work of sitting on your eggs for 28 days straight, why don't you let me treat you to a nice dinner?  Just the two of us!  I love the way the sunlight hits your feathers.  Is that too forward of me?  I apologize, it's just the way your beak mesmerizes me, I forget my manners.  Where was I?  Oh yes, dinner!  Just the two of us!  Why don't you be a peach and gather some herbs for an omelette?  And how about some mint and parsley and onions and sage?  Won't that be nice?  I'll pick up a nice bottle of wine.  Of course, if that's all right with you."


I was screaming at her now - in my mind.  "JEMIMA!  Are you listening?!  Omelettes?  Herbs for stuffing a roast duck?!?!  Come on girl!  Don't be swayed by the nice clothes and the smooth voice.  This muhf*cka's bout to kill you!!"


But she didn't listen.  Off she goes, gathering herbs "for dinner."  She probably went and got her hair done too, maybe a mani/pedi.  So she'll look nice for their "special dinner."  Oh Jemima.


She went back to the farm she ran away from to get the onions and came across the farm dog. He was all "where you been girl?"  And she was like "I met this guy and he's so handsome and well-dressed and he's nice to me.  He's letting me stay with him so I can hatch my eggs."  


Thank GAWD the dog was like "hmmm, something doesn't sound right.  Tell me EVERYTHING."  


But then HIS stupid ass was just looking for a fight!  He didn't really want to help Jemima!  He wasn't thinking about her!  So the farm dog went down into the village to get his boys, two stupid thug puppies, to go after the fox.


Meanwhile, Jemima came back to the house with the herbs and things, and THIS shifty bastard is all nervous and jittery, sniffing the air and looking all uneasy.  He jumps when Jemima comes up and is all short with her.

"Come into the house as soon as you have looked at your eggs.  Give me the herbs for the omelette.  Be sharp!"

Jemima Puddle-duck had never heard him speak like that.  She felt surprised, and uncomfortable."

Are you fucking kidding me?  This is a got damb LIFETIME MOVIE!

She went inside the house and just then, the farm dog and the thug puppies showed up.  They sniffed at the bottom of the door, and then locked her in.  The FUCK!?


Horrible death-noises ensued and that was it for the fox.  The farm dog unlocked the door and let Jemima out, but the thug puppies had gotten in the shed where she was staying and had eaten all her eggs.


Me, yelling in my mind:  Beatrix Potter, you are not serious right now.


Poor Jemima had to be escorted back to the farm she ran away from because she was so distraught over her eggs.  Of course she is!  Thug puppies killed her babies!


She laid more eggs that they let her keep (gee thanks, fucking farmers.  She's scarred for life but you think more babies will make up for it and make her forget the other ones.  SUUURE.)  


And here's the kicker:  It says "only four of them hatched."  So she had more, but some didn't make it.  Can Jemima Puddle-duck please catch a break?  DAMN.


How's this for the closing paragraph of the story?

"Jemima Puddle-duck said that it was because of her nerves; but she had always been a bad sitter."

She blamed herself for everything that happened.

What. The SHIT?!?!  This is a children's book?!  Are you kidding me?  And here I was thinking that All My Friends Are Dead was the weirdest gift I got at the shower.

Dude, you got nothin on Jemima.

I closed the book, feeling so bad for Jemima, wondering what the blue-blooded hell Beatrix Potter was thinking when she wrote this book and what the hell happened to her that these self-esteem issues were manifesting themselves in her characters.  And who thought this was a good story?  Who said hey let's publish and distribute this for children?  I started wondering what the hell other books I have in Sofia's library and made a mental note to scan her bookcase tomorrow.

PS, what the hell other books do I need to watch out for?  The last thing I need is to be reading to my daughter and end up throwing the book across the room, yelling about how she needs to open your f*cking EYES woman!

From now on, we're totally sticking to Goodnight Moon.

The shed-yule

L'horaire.  El horario.  Sked-chull.  Sketch-ull.  The Almighty Schedule.


It was the magic key that has my baby sleeping through the night.  And not five hours, which is commonly accepted as 'through the night.'  I'm talking going to bed at 8 and not getting up until seven the next morning.  I wouldn't believe it if I wasn't living it.  But let me back up.


It was Saturday night and I was sitting in our bedroom, bawling my eyes out.  Head in hands, shoulders shaking, bawling.  Sofia was in her crib, bawling *her* eyes out.  Throat rattling, snot pouring, bawling.  It was miserable and something had to give because my baby was tired.

We were at the baby gym and the bubbles were just sitting on her hair.

She looked so cute but she was barely able to keep her eyes open.

They say you shouldn't even think about getting a baby on a schedule until they're at least four to five months.  We kinda sorta had a schedule but nighttime was always a battle and she always ended up in bed with us.  Naps were sporadic and bedtime was anywhere from 7:30 to 10:30, not by my choice.  I could always count on an 11 or midnight waking, followed by a 3-4am waking, followed by bringing her in bed with us because I was so effing tired.


I tried to follow the Ferber method for one night - remember how that turned out?  I had a violent physical reaction to her crying and that was it for me.  I may be weak, soft, and screwing up my daughter for life, but I cannot deal with her crying.  I am physically unable to handle it and since I'm alone more often than not, I won't be trying anytime soon.  I don't have anyone to reassure me and hold me while my daughter is screaming and crying her face off, so I had to find a different way.


Unfortunately, the holidays killed any sort of attempt at routine or schedule.  We traveled from October until the new year and between hotel rooms, my parent's house and Drew's parent's house, Sofia rarely had a normal bedtime - we just did the best we could.  I feel guilty beyond guilty typing that out, but I have seen the error of my ways and trust - it's not going to be like that ever again.


Sunday morning, Drew left for Reading.  It was a new day, a new start and it was high time for The Schedule.

Don't. Mess. With The Schedule.

We have lots of playing built into The Schedule because it's time for us to learn things.  I found this awesome blog, Play at Home Mom and those tricks are serious!  I don't have Environments or Invitations for Sofia, but we sure do stack the hell out of some blocks and I try my hardest to teach her colors.  It's only been three days, but I'm pretty sure we're ready to move on to long division.

But seriously, if I wasn't living it I wouldn't believe it but y'all.  This shit works.  Oh, and the marks above The Schedule?  That's our swear chart - no, seriously.  I refuse to have the kid that swears and thinks it's funny because they picked it up from Mom and Dad.  Presently, I'm winning and we're doing lots better since we started keeping track, but obviously it doesn't apply to the blog.  I have to be able to swear somewhere, even though I'm actually trying to lighten that up as well.  I'm *totally* going to stop before she can read.  PROMISE.

But back to The Schedule.  Sunday we followed it to the letter and I got an hour long morning nap and a two hour afternoon nap and I have never gotten a two hour afternoon nap.  Granted, I laid down with her but I'm counting it!  Bedtime was a little rough because she woke up around 11 and it took me an hour to get her back down, BUT she stayed in her crib the rest of the night!!  She didn't wake up until 7:30 the next morning!!  That is so major.

Monday, again we followed The Schedule to the letter.  This time morning and afternoon naps were shorter, but they happened!  At the right time!  Bedtime came at 7:45 and when she woke up around 11 again, it took less than an hour to get her back down!  When she woke around 3ish, she half-cried for a little while, and put herself back to sleep.  That has never ever ever ever ever EVER happened.  

Tonight, she was practically begging to go to sleep at 7:45 on the dot and was out cold by 8.  A Got Damb Murther Furkin door to door person came at 8 murther furkin o'clock, thereby causing my dog to lose her mind barking and I about lost my shit because of course the baby woke up.  After telling the door to door person that I didn't want a Got Damb thing they were selling and very pointedly telling her that She Woke Up My Baby, I went in to soothe her, positive that it would take all night to get her back down.

Five minutes.  If that.  She was back to sleep and has been asleep ever since.  I made myself dinner, I painted my fingers and toes, I watched tv and thanked the baby Jesus for my good fortune.   

I know the Varsity Moms are probably rolling their eyes, going duh!  Babies need schedules and routines!  To which I can only reply, Dooood.  My bad!  I clearly didn't understand how serious it was to have A Schedule.

Her demeanor and mood is ridiculously improved.  She's always been a happy and easy-going kid but now she's rested and she's even happier, and rather than beat myself up that it took me this long to get it together, I'm going to be thankful that it didn't take me longer.

Therefore, this little post is getting filed under 'accomplishments.'  One day I do hope to get naps that are longer than an hour in the daytime, but for now I'm going to bask in the fact that my baby is officially sleeping through the night because I thought we'd be doomed to have her in our bed forever.  I love my daughter but she actually punched me in the throat Saturday morning.  Yeah, it was because she rolled over and flung her arm out, but it woke me out of a dead sleep and that shit hurt!  Seriously, we all needed our own space.

The Schedule is not ultra-rigid, it allows for wiggle room and slowly but surely we're working our way up to being able to leave the house for longer periods of time without her falling asleep in the carseat.  One thing at a time.

I still don't know what to do with myself and I'm sure that this is a sign of her growing up.  She actually cut her first tooth today. *sniff*  My baby's growing up.

Okay, so please allow me this moment of being happy and proud and feeling like a good mother.  Please don't tell me about how this is all going out the window with the next milestone or some other mean thing like "enjoy it while you can, because wait till they (do whatever thing that will cause them to stop sleeping)."  

I need this victory.  I need the illusion, if only for a little while.

I need to sleep enough to get the circles under my eyes to fade just a little bit.  So.......

My baby's sleeping through the night!  Halle-LU-Jah!

Nine

Sofia is nine months old today. Yes I know that technically, she was nine months old yesterday but I started this on her nine month birthday so I'm counting it.


.......


Okay, I'm back.  I had to cry and wail and gnash my teeth at the fact that my kid can do this:

She refused to sit for the picture so I was like, Fine you can stand up but you're totally going to fall over.  And then she was like, Fall over?  Yeah right.  I'll just lean on the sofa and post up.  She stood there while I snapped like five pictures before she decided she was done showing me her skills.  Then I had to gnash my teeth some more.  I can't handle this.

The plague has left the house, thank god, but not before it did a number on me.  I was feeling crappy all day Sunday and only ate a bowl of chicken noodle soup at like five in the afternoon because my mother was hounding me.  I begged Drew to take the baby with him when he took my mom to the airport, and I'm so glad he did because of course it all came right back up shortly after they left.  But thank the baby Jesus, it seemed to be 24 hour thing and now all I have to deal with is the runny nose.  Drew is well again, the baby is well so we're back to our routine. 

Which includes dinner!

No one is happier than I am that Sofia's food issues appear to have resolved themselves.  She pretty much eats everything now and we've had no skin flare-ups.  I'm guessing her little system just needed time to further mature before she could handle solids.  However, I haven't yet found a food that she loves.  So far, she'll eat what I give her but she definitely doesn't get excited about any of it and stops eating after a few bites.  I get the distinct sense that she eats to humor me.  The doctor said her weight is fine and as long as I continue to nurse on demand, we're in good shape.

Nursing is getting super fun too!  Now that she can pull up to standing, her favorite thing to do is crawl over to me, pull up and grab at my shirt.  Most of the time I wear v necks or other easy access shirts so it's very easy for her to get to the goods.  If I stop her and try to get her to do the sign for 'milk' or 'please' she gets very insistent and starts making the 'hate noises.'  One of the moms in my playgroup coined the phrase and it fits perfectly.  The kid sounds like she's about to conjure some demons if I don't whip out the boob fast enough.  If she were older and not so cute, I would have to discipline her.  But at this point it's just funny, although I do tell her that the polite thing is to say please.  She could care less.

OH! OH!  AND!!  The birthday planning has begun!!  I've got the invitation idea planned, the photographer booked and I've got my eye on decorations and of course the whole thing is on Pinterest.  What did I do with my life before Pinterest?  Do you have any idea how much fun I'm having planning her party?  It's kind of silly.

This of course means that we can't sell our house until the week after the party.  In April.  Drew is not-so-silently having a fit every time I mention something about her birthday because he wants me to rein it in.  AS IF.  This is my daughter's first birthday.  There will be no reining in of ANYTHING.

HE SAYS I shouldn't plan because we might sell the house before then and I'll be disappointed.  I assure him that I will be much more disappointed if we're still here in April and I *haven't* planned anything.  It's not like I'm putting a thousand dollar down payment on a hall or something.  I'm just planning a huge small, elaborate simple, celebration get-together for our daughter.  No big.  Very big.  Huge.

So how about y'all?  I feel like I've been out of the loop since I was up to my eyeballs with the plague.  Any gnashing of the teeth?  Any planning?

And just because I like watching that vein pop out on his neck:  Do you have any website suggestions/inspirations for Sofia's party?

A pox on my house

Well hello 2012, I was all optimistic about how wonderful you were going to be and all the blessings and happy things you were going to bring and you don't even bother giving me just a few moments to enjoy that happy shiny feeling, huh?  You gotta be all Happy New Year!  


POX!


The plague has descended on my home and I'm only just now raising my head from the wreckage and carnage and mayhem and woe.


My kid is sick, my husband is sick, I'm sick and two of the three of us are shitting their brains out.  You know how absolutely positively NOT fun that is?  It's not fun.


The little cold that Sofia had, that I thought would resolve itself in a few days, has turned into an ear and sinus infection.  Kill me now.  She had a runny nose, which I attributed to teething and was all proud of myself for not being a neurotic mom and running to the doctor at a little sniffle.  "She is breastfed," I said in my superhero voice.  "Her body will heal itself."


Then she started coughing.  "It's just the post-nasal drip irritating her throat.  Don't panic.  This is par for the course."  I dutifully wiped her nose, used the snotsucker, we took steamy showers, I bought a humidifier and I prayed to the baby Jesus to heal my Precious.


Then she got really congested and her snot turned yellow.  Game over.  Time for the doctor.


I took her in and the doctor looked in her ear for a nanosecond and was like "She has an ear infection."  Oh that's just awesome.  Although the upside was that she's almost nine months old (next Wednesday - waaaaaaahhhhh) and this is her first cold.  The doctor said most babies get 6-10 colds their first year of life so we were doing really well.  I could only half-heartedly puff my chest out because Sofia was coughing and rubbing her eyes and ears and I felt terrible for her. 


We got antibiotics and ear drops and Pedialyte because she said the antibiotics could give her diarrhea (which it totally does, btw.  Shitting. Her. Brains Out. Awesome.)  You know, it's the 21st century - you'd think they would have invented medication that makes things better *without* making other things worse.  So now I'm on Dehydration Red Alert and I've got her permanently attached to my boob, which is super fun because the kid can barely breathe, while I'm drinking as much water as I can handle as well as trying to get her to drink the Pedialyte, which she hates.  Of course she does.

Drew's birthday lunch, New Year's Eve.

Even though she was sick, she was still super cute and happy.

Oh, and my poor hubby.  He's got issues too.  He'd be mortified if I went into detail, but the man's strugglin.  Oh yeah, we're starting the new year right.  And by right I mean shitty.  In the literal sense.  I'm just thankful that the only thing I seem to have caught is Sofia's runny nose.

I was all ready to post about my resolutions and how good I'm feeling about this new year and how wonderful it is to have that clean slate feeling - and then the plague dropped on us and it's all I can do to keep up with her runny nose, her poopy butt, the dog and the husband.  Mama is tired.

But it's all good because this too shall pass.  Actually, let me rephrase that.  

This too had better pass.  It's killing me to hear my baby's nose rattle with all her snot, and the coughing is breaking my heart.  And the poop?  That shit just pisses me off.

Thank God my mom is in town for the weekend.  The extra set of hands is a big help and even though I hate leaving the baby when she's sick, I'm have to go be with Drew because he's sick.

As for me, I'm downing the Vitamin C like it's my job and I'm trying my hardest to rest as much as possible (ha frickin HA) because moms aren't allowed to get sick.

Pray for us, y'all.