Sick.

Both Dow and Liam have been sick this weekend. I had baby duty all day Sunday from 4:30 a.m. until 7:45 Monday morning. During that time, Liam projectile vomited on me 6 times, two of which were in his crib. When he sneezed, he had explosive diarrhea that shot out the sides of his diaper (on me) and up the back of his diaper onto his neck and the back of his head. He had 8 baths (two were just to calm him down) and has gone through 6 changes of clothes. I went through three. I can handle a little baby puke but not poop. No sir. I've washed 3 loads of pukey/poopy baby laundry and all of our bedding. Because Dow as sick, I was up with him Friday night, Saturday night and last night, and I woke up with him each morning at 4:45. Being tired is an understatement.

But, through all that, I managed to keep my patience and clean up puke and poop with a smile. Why? Because I'm lucky to have such a wonderful, sweet baby. I love him dearly, even more when he doesn't feel good. Here's why:

He always makes getting dressed in the morning an adventure. Notice how he is squirting water through his left fist and holding my eyeliner with his baby death grip in his right fist.



He is very concerned with keeping in touch with his friends and family. He never drops his Blackberry, even while watching Yo Gabba Gabba (which is the weirdest children's show on the planet, but that's another blog post altogether).




He loves to just hang. Here he is after a trip to the neighborhood coffee shop.



Get better soon, boys. I don't like it when you are sick, and I don't like it when I miss my Zzzs.

Morgan