It's been a rough week at my house, we've had two visits for the ER, we've battled croup, had steroids, visited the doctor three times, and are now fighting a nasty virus that has left my house smelling like a fraternity bathroom. I've dealt with anti-vomit drugs that of course aren't working and diarrhea diapers that always happen to explode... on me.  I vowed to the Social Media Gods that when I became a parent,  I would never post pictures of poop exploded diapers or vomit on walls (and I still haven't) but, this week especially, I've used social media as an outlet as a call for support or ideas on what to do. I've become "the parent" that I so often see mocked or ousted for "over sharing". People who are around kids all day get it, even some friends who aren't parents have offered support (and that's how I know they are true friends) or suggestions, or are even laughing with me when the nurse suggested that I give my

If you haven't heard the background story, you'll want to read up , because I'm about to admit it, in Boldface Times Font... Eric was right.  That evening when Eric got home from work, he made a few comments that indicated that he'd read the blog before coming home. I wasn't sure where our post-kid-bedtime conversation would take us: would he spin around in circles doing a happy dance? Would he sing-songy say, "You were wrooonnnnngggg" over and over again? Or would he just say, "So... I read your blog today." As we sat down to watch The Big Bang Theory, drink wine and have a cheese and chocolate snack, he said, "So, why did you say 'no' to Henrik at the gym today?" I still didn't have an answer, I admitted that I didn't, but I knew that there was a pretty darn good chance that I was trying to protect him. We kind of left it at that when I told him that I still needed to do some soul searching to find out if I