Sometimes you just have to breathe

On Friday we traveled up to Gor-Geous Chapel Hill for my cousin Jimmy's wedding. The trip included a one-hour plane ride with a nearly one and a half year old, renting a minivan, and sleeping in a hotel room- all things that make this girl uncomfortable. Have you heard about the hotel-driven bed bug epidemic? Yeah.

Thankfully my sweet mother flew to Atlanta just to help me and Madelyn get to North Carolina in one piece and I really thought we had everything under control. Until 11:30 p.m. on Saturday night when the stomach virus of 2010 took me down. And I mean down.

I thought maybe it was the bar french fries I ate while watching a shameful Gator loss to Alabama but turns out no one else who partook in my fries was ill. And ill is an understatement. I was up all night and then had to fly the next day. Thank the good Lord above for my mother because I wouldn't have made it without her. We're now home though I'm not exactly sure how we got here, and I'm still sick.

Since Saturday night I've been living on motrin and gatorade, sleeping constantly, nursing a blinding headache likely from dehydration and lack of food, and generally trying Not to breathe on Madelyn.

Last night I was exhausted and nauseous but I knew I had to give Madelyn a bath so I did. Afterwards we went into her room to get a new diaper and jammies, but she saw my weakness and took advantage of my impaired reflexes by pooping on her floor. Carpet, to be exact. You know, the kind of flooring that soaks up everything. And in three different spots.

Breathe in.....breathe out......breathe in.....breathe out.....do it with me now....