Surrender, Dorothy.

Okay. We're on day fourteen of this bug. Better, yes, but we've not reached the all clear.

Dear Kaki came over Sunday afternoon to watch the babe so I could do a much needed supplies run. Papa and Diggy came to visit on Monday (for a change of scenery and some outdoor action, we picnicked in the park on Heavenly Hog BBQ) and Daddy Booty returned from his solo Michigan run to see his people on Tuesday night. I've been more than grateful for extra pairs of arms to hold and cuddle and soothe my Ziggy. He has needed it, as have I.

I've done much prayer and meditation in the name of letting go....

I've done little other than hold and bathe and nurse and love on my little one for two weeks. (IS there more important living to do? No, m'am. Not at present.) We have, when possible, taken walks with the dog. I did get a little writing done, a little laundry and survived a migraine, but that's really it. That, and polish off an entire carton of peach ice cream and watch crazy television like middle of the night infomercials (must get some Bare Escentuals!) & the Arts channel. Daddy Booty laughed when yesterday I pointed to the clip of Sunset Boulevard's Broadway Norma and told him I'd seen it four times in two days. (No, I'm not a fan of the television for the little one, but we're talking mama desperation here. And I confess here that I did actually turn on Daniel Cook for both of us to watch one day between diaper changes.)


Ah, Ziggy needs tending. Off go I.