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This week has been a doozey.

Baby shots and feelings of inadequacy on Monday.

A 4-day-work-week—with a pay cut—offered on Tuesday.

Work visit on Wednesday. All went well for all of 10 minutes; then Theo fussed like I’ve never seen. He let out these throaty, sad, sad cries—then he spit-up on my boss. Good times.

Throaty cries continue on Thursday. Doc says Theo has a virus. Poor boo!

Today: His cries are killing me. I want to soothe him and mute him all at once. And he hasn’t taken a shit in days! Since I’m Theo’s sole source of nourishment, I can’t help but feel like this is partially my fault. Am I eating too much cheese? Cheese binds you up, yes? I should eat more fiber-filled things. You think that’ll make him poop—or will I be the only winner in the shitting game?

Theo, thank goodness, is giving me a smile here and there today so I don’t toss myself out the window.

And, yes, that is a cat hair dangling from my child’s face.
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