I swear I don't just come here to complain.
Okay, maybe I do.
But ugh. The plague has descended upon our house. First G had a runny nose last week. Then the husband had a cold. Then me. Mine consists of a gross phlegmy cough, a faucet for a nose and sore throat.
So I figured we were all done.
But this morning, G woke up and five minutes later put himself back to bed. I knew right away that a) the apocalypse was imminent or b) he was sick.
One wrestling match and armpit temperature later, it was confirmed. Fever. It hit around 102 and at that point I employed the perennial mom move - the Tylenol full nelson. This kid is not compliant in taking medicine, ever.
We're now hanging out at around 100.
The little prince is splayed out on the couch, demanding 'babies' - this is the Duggars. And clearly another post where I explain why he knows them AND ALL THEIR J NAMES is forthcoming.
For now, I'm crossing all my fingers and toes that the baby stays healthy. A two month old with a fever is panic inducing.
And also, G must be feeling better cause he's back to annoying the heck out of me.
Lay off, kiddo. I still feel like garbage. Thanks, your momma.