Bryan as Best Actor, with a Best Supporting Actress award for Grandma

My dear, sweet husband spent all day Tuesday and Wednesday doting on my barfing, sick-as-a-dog self. He fetched me Gatorade and bananas from the store. He worked odd jobs only when he could arrange for Zoey to be babysat by somebody other than her incapacitated mother. He came home when I called and asked him to, only because I wanted a plate of Saltines and bananas and the mere thought of dragging my body out to the kitchen made me want to pass out in our bed. And when I nearly burst in to tears because he had placed BLACKBERRIES on the plate when blackberries *shudder* were the very thing I had vomited up the night before, he promptly inhaled them himself, patted my head, and encouraged me to sit up while eating instead of sucking the salt off my crackers while still curled in the fetal position. He monitored my fluid intake. Told me that if I wasn't better by tomorrow, he'd have to take me to a doctor. He patiently asked Zoey to not announce to everyone that "Mommy fwoed up in the gawbage can!"

And when Zoey woke up several times in the middle of the night requesting an audience while she peed, all I could do was give my dear, sweet husband a few shoves in the side (they couldn't possibly hurt, I was too weak to pack a decent punch) and he was on his way to be the raving cheerleader our daughter needed. He fed and bathed her each night and endured endless rounds of "Daddy, watch me! Watch me do (insert mindlessly boring activity here)!"

And that fabulous, patient, and kind husband of mine passed out on the couch 10 minutes after I walked in the door from work tonight. He woke up long enough to eat dinner, then headed straight back to the couch. Totally exhausted, he was.

48 hours of motherhood totally kicked his ass.

And a shout out to my grandmother is totally in order here as well, as she was brave and kind enough to bring me the Saltines I craved at the height of looking like death (her exact words when I answered the door were "My God, child, you look like you've been shot at and missed, then shit at and hit!"), opting not to drop the crackers on the porch and run like hell to avoid my germs, but instead coming on in to the kitchen to visit for a bit before leaving me to my flu-bug hell. Then, last night, she came over with most of the ingredients for dinner and co-fed my family while I managed to successfully sit at the table and eat two bites of mashed potatoes.

Cheers to Bryan and Grandma K! You both rock!