I had the stomach flu on Tuesday, which was super awesome in that "Wow, I forgot what it's like to throw up in the shower" kind of way. Chris decided to stay home as well, and we kept Andy home with us from day care since the little guy's been fighting something all week. I think Andy's needs were met only on a minimal basis that Tuesday. I was in no physical shape to care for a baby, and Chris started feeling something too around mid-morning. Not pity or empathy or anything but something rather bowel-ish. That being said, I spent all of Wednesday feeling guilty for my lack of mothering, and now it's Thursday and I've just today come to the conclusion that maybe Andy should go see a doctor since his cough progressed from dry and cute to wet and gross sometime around last Sunday. Sigh.

I think little Andy knew Mama was sick on Tuesday. Chris would carry him into the bedroom, and Andy would stare down at me with what seemed like a rather forlorn look. He could tell something was wrong, and those forlorn little looks just about broke me. Man, sometimes it's really heart-wrenching to be a parent.