Pass the Kleenex

I'm sitting here with my baby girl at 5 AM, mindlessly clicking and marveling at all the creativity out there in blogland. Sigh. All those great ideas, none of which I'll get to...Karoline is sick, not just a sniffly sick, but an I'm-so-sick-I-can't-stand-or-eat sick (but she can nurse--incessantly). She will not let me put her down-- not to brush my teeth, not to go to the bathroom, not to get dressed. I'm typing one-handed. She's given new meaning to "long weekend." I'm overtired. My throat hurts.So, I was primed to shed big tears when I stumbled upon this--Beth Moore's letter to her daughter just before the wedding.
Hold on to  me all day, Baby-mine. Hold on real tight.