I love blogging when it's still dark out.

I woke up this morning around three with a headache that I attribute to TMJ and drinking five beers in order to stop thinking about my throbbing toe. I took some Advil and drank some water and then I went back to sleep. I woke up again at five because my baby was crying in his crib. Upon further inspection, I realized that the fever he has had for three days is the highest it's been and he is miserable.

I nursed him, loved on him, gave him some infant Advil, and then put him back to sleep. Now I am sitting here writing this and the only thing that comes to mind to write about is how powerless motherhood has left me feeling. Here I sit, this person who is all full of opinions and ideas and convictions and none of them can make my baby feel better.

All of my really strong opinions about fever reducers, vaccines, antibiotics, and illness come into question when my own baby is sick. It's a lot easier to tell someone else what to do than to do it myself. I am all about not over-medicating my children, letting fevers do what nature intended them for, and letting them build up natural immunities. But that game changes when my smiling, laughing, sweet boy has been reduced to a fussy mess with a head so hot that I can barely stand to touch it.

Today is day three of Puff's fever and I cracked. I gave him a fever reducer because I can't stand to see him miserable any longer. I compromised with myself because I love my baby boy so much. Motherhood has made me powerless. It has turned me into a mushy puddle of love that has a mind telling her one thing and a heart telling her another.

Darn these kids for being so captivating.