The sick.

It’s in my household, again.

I always hear and read that breastfed kids have a better immune system, LIES. My kids are the sickliest, ever. They were sick all of October and now they’re starting off November in the same fashion, a trend that will last well into January at the very least.

Last night, Lola was in her room coughing her guts out while I was in bed next to the baby. Before you judge me, don’t. I wasn’t neglecting her or ignoring her, I was simply trying to breathe for five minutes before the baby woke up again screaming for the almighty gah (if you’re new to reading my shenanigans, gah = boob).

We survived the night after some hippie remedies and pharmaceutical concoctions and now here I am. Trying to write this before Dora is over and chugging my coffee. There are bills to pay, a 7th birthday party to plan and reserve, invitations to address, soccer awards to be made, a house to clean, children to tend to, unschooling, errands to run, clothes to be washed and folded, and one of me.

Here’s to today, it could be worse.

 

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