up against

illness.

Both my boys are sick.

Now normally, I'm all for it. I love when Andrew is feverish and wants to snuggle and watch TLC all day. I mean, what's not to love? But this time it's not so great...for two reasons.

Reason Number One:
As much as I love to learn What Not To Wear and watch babies being born and as much as I love getting soaked in Andrew drool, I sort of have to pack boxes. So, the pull of Andrew needing to snuggle and TLC needing to be watched is up against the chaos that is boxes and dust bunnies and stuff everywhere. And a vague moving deadline, which I think might be the day before I lose it.

Reason Number Two:
Guilt. When you are pregnant everyone tells you about the overwhelming love. How you just can't believe how much you love this little lump of baby cuteness. No one mentions the guilt. Andrew is sick. It's my fault. Right? Right. I mean, what kind of mother takes their unsuspecting toddler to the beach for a week with all kinds of cousins that want to meet his every need? And then, brings him home only to change homes entirely? I am that kind of mother. We are that kind of family. And I think Andrew, or his body at least, is protesting in a big way. It's just too much.

So, he is napping now. Snuggled with Ernie (Ernie and I take shifts...). And now I play the "How Much Can I Get Done Before Andrew Wakes Up Without Exhausting Myself So Much That I Get Snappy With Him" game.

Ever played?

Poor Dave is sick too. Oh yeah.
He might be on his own this time.
I mean, a girl can only do so much.

Maybe Ernie will take a shift with Dave later.
I'll have to ask.