It’s 4 a.m. on the Sunday morning of a long weekend.
I am sitting on the couch with a baby breathing noisily on my chest.
He is still battling through his first cold, the cold that descended on us last weekend, but didn’t really bloom until Friday. This weekend has been a steady rotation of fever fighting, Nose Frida’ing gallons of snot, steaming up the bathroom, and cleaning Tylenol and mucus barf off both of us every time we try to medicate him of feed him.
Ugh. This sucks. I’m exhausted and probably stink of baby barf. Even though I’m complaining, more than anything I just feel bad for my baby. I hope he starts feeling better soon.
And if I could catch a nap at some point, I’d take that, too.