There was a time - once - such a long time ago - when I had a happy Emily.
The memory is hazy - but I cling to it, hoping for a brighter future.
Let's discuss how I don't understand this idea of attaching the word much to the end of sentences.
Actually, let's not.
Instead let's go back to unhappy Emily.
This is the face that greets me 98% of the day.
Our poor girl!
Last night she couldn't sleep - not even a little bit - and the only time she wasn't whining was when I was holding her.
It was 6:00 this morning before I crawled into my bed for two hours of sleep before Em woke up again.
At 5:00 this morning Jason was changing the sheets on our bed because our girl threw up all over.
It's been rough.
In fact, not three seconds ago, Jason sat down next to me on the couch and after letting out a big breath said, "This has been a tough few days."
We've digressed so far back from the 'Emily loves her new formula and never throws up' days that it makes me want to cry.
We've got her on an antibiotic and we're hoping that tomorrow she'll smile at us, maybe just once.
And I'm hoping for at least four hours of sleep tonight.
On the bright side, Jason is watching football right now.
What more could a girl want?