The evil "D"

We've been in the throes of the sickies lately.  And as any good mama knows, sick babies = tired mamas.  That is one equation that is fundamental to the laws that bind motherhood.  In our case, sick babies also make for tired dadas.  One of the great things about R is that he is a rock star dad who is willing to get up with G in the middle of the night - and definitely does more often than I do!

It all started last Wednesday with the evil "D" ... diarrhea.  We're not sure where he got it from, but it's day 8 and still lingering.  We finally took him in to be seen on Tuesday after waiting it out for as long as we could.  Plus he developed a fever late in the game and our list of resources was waning thin - BRAT foods, probiotic, plenty of fluids...  Poor little guy.  The dr. suspects a virus but had us drop off a stool sample just to rule out anything else.

So now, we wait and continue to give baths several times a day.  Cause let's face it - have you ever tried to wrestle a baby alligator (aka change a diaper) who had a big, nasty poop?  Not so much fun.  At least G Man is getting nice and squeaky clean and has no diaper rash to speak of.

And if it's one thing I have learned from this experience is that there is a good reason we have 5 baby bath towels, and 4 crib sheets, and plenty of pjs...

And that poop really doesn't phase me in the least.  I did tell R that I am thankful that I only have to wipe two butts in this house.  I followed that up by saying that if there comes a day when I have to wipe his arse, I might just put him in a home.  I kid, I kid... kind of.

Now go away sickies!