We're on day three of sick and I'm moping around the house in my
pajama pants and tee-shirt, hair pulled back in haphazard pony-tail
situation, rubber-banded with the stretched out elastic from a deceased
shower cap.
I look like a bag lady. I feel like someone is kicking me in the
face and squashing my heart. I haven't slept in two days but that's not
why. I hate that my baby is in pain and I wonder how mothers of
chronically ill kids deal.
Archer's fever peaked at 103.7. That was yesterday so at least the
worst is behind us. I may bitch and moan about how difficult it is to
raise a toddler but chasing Archer around the neighborhood like a
maniac is nothing compared to lying on the couch, rubbing his little
back and singing "the ants go marching one by one..." for two days.
Read More...
