Sick sucks

I've been sick quite a bit this year. I am sure, by now, that it is a result of having two kiddos under 4, a husband who works 14 hours a day, and not getting enough sleep. I am going to have to figure out how to take better care of myself. Any suggestions for immune-boosting ideas are more than welcome. So far, I'm taking probiotics (which haven't done much but give me...well, excessive bathroom time), trying to eat more fruits and veggies, and I was taking Airborne quite frequently, every time I was feeling cold or flu-like.

Unfortunately, this week I pretty much bottomed out. I was struck at around noon on Tuesday with a migraine unlike any I've had before. Thankfully, my dad was around, and he took me to the doctor and my wonderful doctor (we affectionately refer to him as Dr. Jesus, Jr. due to his ways of salvation when we feel so badly) gave me a elephantine shot of Stadol. I slept in a narcotic buzz through the next two days. On Wednesday evening, I felt well enough to get up and eat, and noticed, through the haze of narcotic, that my mouth was disturbingly painful as I ate some chicken strips. I dismissed it and went to bed.

On Thursday morning, I awoke to find that I had a mouth full of canker sores, ulcers, whathaveyou. I prefer to call them demon-pains-from-hell, but whatever. Again to the doctor, who gave me an anti-viral and some lidocaine. On Friday morning, I woke up with vomiting and diarrhea. Yep, the stomach bug had decided to pay me a visit, because I wasn't feeling badly enough. So, I feel human today, but still woozy.

Sadly, my nursling, Bear, isn't getting much nourishment at the breast, and that has caused me unending guilt and worry. My big boy, Sir H, is constantly asking me if I'm okay, so I know he's worried and hopefully, Daddy's pulling through on that front. I'm lucky if I can choke down 300 calories a day, and it's just not cutting it. Thankfully, the end is in sight. My mouth is better, my tummy seems to not be revolting after a meal of mashed potatoes and Gatorade, and I can cross my fingers and pray for a good night's sleep and a healthy day tomorrow.

Bear is nine months, on the 1st, and I can hardly believe it. He has been standing since he was 7 months old, just stands right up from a froggy squat, and recently, added clapping and "yayayayayayay!" to his repertoire as he stands. He loves to be snuggled, loves to sleep pressed up to you skin to skin, and nurses constantly.

Sir H is a very, very busy little guy who has a billion friends and makes new ones everywhere he goes. He is constantly on the look for "peelbugs", asks if we are driving on the "hivewave" to San Antoooonio, tells me, "Mommy, we don't say, 'shutup'", and sees "websites" (spiderwebs) everywhere we go.