Yellow Barn Studio
She who has nursed thousands of colds, fevers and illnesses.  Who stood by so patiently with the red puke bucket through every stomach flu and food poisoning episode.  Who battles silently through her own discomfort to bring us hot tea, tissues and 7Up (with a sippy straw).  Chicken noodle soup, green jello, endless supply of asthma inhalers.  What can you not say about her strength and fortitude with snotty, grouchy little ones mewling away?

She who I now tower over by over three inches and outweigh by 20 lbs.  Who has been bravely fighting her cold for over a week now (and stubbornly fighting the drowsy side effects of Nyquil for three days).  Who curls up on the love seat with a heating pad behind her back and a hot thermos of ginger tea always within her reach, obediently eating every bite of every meal I bring her - even the gritty NYE lasagna.

She texts me tonight to tell me that it's going to be cold tomorrow and to remember to bundle up and keep warm.  She always thinks of others first, of us first.

What can you not say about her fragility?