The sniffles started on week 1 of day care. The foul poo started on week 2. Mama got sick on week 3 (not with sniffles, unfortunately). And now it’s time to drug the baby.

I’ve spent the past three days in bed, clutching my head and moaning, racing to the bathroom and back, popping ibuprofen to dull the aches, wearing blankets to warm the chills. Today, for the first time I felt the energy to watch the baby, pick up the kitchen, and eat a piece of bagel before falling back in bed and succumbing to America’s Next Top Model. Being sick lowers my television IQ; I also watched Tori & Dean Inn Love, Days of Our Lives, and any channel I could find that didn’t advertise food.

At the same time, Hugh stopped sleeping through the night around 7 nights ago – we think it’s because he’s really stuffy. Last night after waking up at 10:30, 12:30, 1:30, 3:30, and 5:30, Tasha said she would shoot herself if we didn’t fix him. So I called the pediatrician and he said to give him some baby Benadryl tonight, and the words, “Baby Benadryl” just sounded so beautiful. I wouldn’t blame Gwyneth Paltrow if she named her next child Benadryl.

So tonight, it’s Tylenol PM for Mama, Baby Benadryl for Baby, and if Tasha’s lucky, a night’s sleep. Fingers crossed. Results tomorrow.

Sleep, baby, sleep

Sleep, baby, sleep

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