Thursday, October 15, 2009
Yesterday proved, to suck. It was much more difficult than I had prepared myself for. Not only were both of the babies sick, but I was sick too. We're not talking "oh my tummy hurts, maybe I should sip some 7up" kind of sick, but more like "the world is coming to an end somebody please put me out of my misery", sick. And if that weren't bad enough, that we were all on our death beds (with the exception of Christopher, who by now had completely gotten over the illness and returned to work), the air conditioning broke. On a 90 degree day. Of course it did.
Charlie had it the worst. His fever spiked to 103, his cheeks were bright red, nothing satisfied him. Instead of cute baby babbles, the only sounds he made were whines and whimpers. He clung to me with every bit of strength he had, while I made my best efforts to meet him halfway. As the temperature in the house soared (it ended up being a big giant chunk of brick solid ice clogging the air vent), my patience thinned out and I broke down. Seconds after Christopher walked in the door that evening, I threw a cry baby fit fueled by the virus, and then collapsed onto my bed, landing in a puddle of my own raw steaming tears. Not taking care of myself (there were cool baths to give, berry flavored medicines to distribute, and burning hot little bellys to tickle) all day had caught up to me.
After a few minutes of recovery, I blew my nose, straightened out my dirty pajama shirt, pulled myself together in general, and headed back down the stairs to put my parenting face back on.
Apparently, while I was being defeated by the mystery illness, Eleanore had been traumatized by my extreme show of emotions, bringing her to tears, and just had to make me a card right then and there. It would "make me happy and make me feel better", she told Christopher.
What, an, angel.
The kitchen table was covered in construction paper, squishy foam alphabet letters, and dora markers. As soon as she was given the opportunity, she held up the "card", and shouted with an electrifying jolt of energy "I LOVE MOMMY!" (that's what the card says, in case you can't read the written language of Eleanore). She was so very proud of her get well soon gift, and for good reason. It was perfect.
If that isn't the absolute best kind of medicine, I don't know what is.
(Oh, and thank you everyone for your get well wishes left on yesterdays blog post. We really appreciate the lovin'. Germ-less elbow bumps all around)