Wesley is sick. He has RSV, which is just a fancy name for ass-kicking cold with cough and the inability to sleep for more than four consecutive minutes. There's nothing they can do to help him so this not-sleeping, barely-eating, hacking, gagging carosel of fun should last until Wednesday at least, at which point you will find me wandering in the street half-dressed and trying to bite my own ear (Also, soaked from head to toe in spitup. He may be small, but he's got a projectile spitup that could put out a house fire). He is miserable, the poor little guy.
Also, I have found the absolute bottom as far as mommy-guilt goes... it's thinking about your sick infant "Would you please just go to sleep so I can finish these stupid revisions and get on with my life?" Speaking of revisions, I better get right on that. Because I need to finish this ridiculous project even more than I need a shower, or rest, or fun of any kind.
In summary: Blurgh.