The other night, let's call it Monday, my son raced downstairs for the umpteenth time after having been put to bed inorder to give mommy 'just one more kiss and hug.' Ok. I'm a sucker for that and with 'daddy' glaring from the sofa with a 'the kid is getting away with murder and you're encouraging him' I let him come and give me a hug and kiss secretely feeling that part of 'daddy's' problem was that he was being offered neither an extra hug or kiss. I reached out and swooped Aryn in my arms and waited for that treasured kiss. Kiss of death more like. Even as his lips pressed to my cheek I could sense it. A biological invasion of the worst kind. The little ingrate had just infected me with something and I was going to suffer. Soon. I did.
Now, I rarely get sick. Really. I get colds like the rest of the general population but, nothing that neo citran, cough syrup (drunk straight from the bottle) and liquid codiene can't put to right quite effectively and quickly. Not this time. At work on Tuesday I got a call that Sierra had puked at school and needed to go home. Ok. I rushed to get her and A both and after calling gramma to look after them for the afternoon, I went back to work. I know. Bad mommy right? But, my boss was away that day and no one else was there to handle things and who are you to dump your moral judgements on me anyway?
So I went back to work and started to feel a tickle at the back of my throat. Damn. Got a cold. I started to get grumpier as the tickle began to fester and I called around for someone to come in to replace me. Nope. Not going to happen. I wrote a scathing response via email about acetate rolls (I kid you not...sometimes my life is like that) and waited as the clock ticked down to closing time.
At 4:30, I bolted home and replaced gramma. I was still, at this point, feeling that I was just coming down with a cold and, if I knocked it out right away, I'd be fine.
I planned to stay home the next day with the kids anyway (S cuz she had puked, A cuz I didn't feel like working out the tranportation logistics to get him there). I was feeling like crap. Bless the t.v. They watched Blues Clues and Dora while I swirled inside myself and crashed on the couch or upstairs in bed hoping that they'd be able to fend. I puked. A lot. Dry heaves cuz I couldn't even think about eating anything. My ass hurt. Don't ask me why. It just did. And then, my throat began to swell. And burn. Thankfully J had 3 short shifts that day and was able to come home so the kids actually had a functioning parent around. Little buggers recognized my weakness and immediately went for the halloween candy.
Today I feel better? Slept for about 6 hours this morning/afternoon. Will go back to bed after posting. Kids are at school. J will pick them up in an hour.
It's snowing outside. Very lovely. Thing is, before getting stricken down with the plague (could it be bird flu? the chicken I had the other day may have been dodgy), I had been overcome with images of absolute beauty. You know those moments when walking or driving and the sky is just gorgeous and everything else looks at peace and something fitting is on the radio...snapshots of perfection. I'm feeling it now as I look out my living room window. Snow is falling and is just beginning to collect on the ground. When I moved in here, I felt that this would be a great place to spend a winter. I think I'm right. It's cozy inside. Beautiful outside.
Damn. The kids need winter boots.
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