So we just spent a week being terribly ill and a week being wonderfully out of town. Luckily Solomon didn't get sick - it's that super breast milk he lives off of according to our pediatrician. Seems to protect his little bum from all kinds of cooties. Cai and I, however, puked for several days on the couch together. Well, we didn't literally puke on the couch. That's a lie, Cai did puke on the couch a couple of times, but I made it to the bathroom and we both spent endless hours watching TV on the pukey couch and feeling sorry for ourselves. I got sick about 7 hours before it hit him and it's amazing how nature takes over. One minute I'm this terribly sick and wimpy person and the next minute when my baby gets sick I'm half-recovered. Enough to clean him up and console him and bribe him into taking Tylenol. So of course he recovered quite quickly while my illness stuck around an extra few days just for kicks. So we then went to the woods for a week and I must admit I'm sad to be home. Cai is happy to be back at Bluehaven and Solomon seems to be happy wherever we are. I'm still going through my very mushy, fearful stage where I constantly wimp to myself about how beautiful and earthshattering my kids are while worrying about how many people I will kill in a mass murder if anything ever happens to them. I'm generally a very non-violent person, but I can't help but think if something happened to either of them that I would find a ninja sword or a semi-automatic weapon and try to kill everything in sight. I'm aware this isn't a good quality of mine, but at least I'm honest. So facing that, I will now go back to my regularly scheduled programming, that being trying to enjoy my lovely life and fight off the scary thoughts while cleaning up dog poop, changing diapers, washing clothes, and frying up a steak. Am I the ultimate mulitasker or what?