Hit him while he's down . . .

So if 4 teeth at once and Lloyd Christmas bangs (Chris was at him again and this time it wasn't so pretty) were not bad enough for Hughie, he was socked with a high fever and cold yesterday. I had all sorts of lofty expectations for myself yesterday, including mounds of wash and cleaning out the kids' drawers and closets. Instead, I sat on the couch with Hughie moaning in my arms while watching daytime television all day. I'm extremely grateful that there was a marathon of America's Next Top Model, or I would have had to endure talk shows all day long. Do you know what the topic of The Tyra show was yesterday? CHILD STYLISTS. I shit you not. Because obviously I'm sitting at home thinking of stupidest ways possible to spend the endless amounts of money that my husband makes. Forget AIDS or cancer research, starving children and the homeless, I'm going to shell out $650 A DAY to get Georgia really styling. Dolce and Gabanna shirt, size 5T? Check. Michael Kors leggings, size 5T? Check. Jimmy Choo toddler stilettos, toddler size 10? Check. I mean, it's TOTALLY worth it for the five seconds that Georgia will be in those sizes. Now I won't have to be embrassed by her lack of style at that Hamptons barbecue. Whew.

And if you really want to be depressed, watch the Hottest Hooter pageant. I was flipping though the channels last night and this is on. There is sit, literally covered in snot from Hughie after holding him on the couch all day, supressing my gag relfex while watching these chicks strut their perfect shapely legs, tiny butts and big hooters. The absurd, plastic American ideal, browned in a tanning bed. Lovely.

And then, as I'm holding Hughie in bed with me last night at 2 a.m., I hear Georgia running down the hall to our room crying. She's so hysterical I can't get her to tell me what's wrong. Then, with a scream (and waking Hughie), she pees all over my (FAVORITE) king sized memory foam pillow and satin pillow case (which is on the floor to make room for Hughie). If anyone has any ideas on how to clean that, I would greatly appreciate. Just shoot me now. Well, at leat now I know what she was trying to tell me.