Oct 23, 2010
The Porcelain Throne is NOT so Royal
Well, the angels heard. I've been horizontal, shivering beneath an afghan blankie, for two days.
Contracted that darned virus (now I really feel sorry for the pain Wilder went through). Had a beautiful weekend planned: frozen yogurt with the girls, date night, shopping, baby shower, family in town.
And it all went to [the] pot. I was so, so sad, immediately retracting those yearnings for solitude. (I was thinking solitude that comes by way of a massage or reading, Lord).
While quarantined to the intensive care unit of our home, a.k.a., our bedroom, I've tossed and turned, willing myself to count sheep, in Spanish, but all I want to do is trim off their fluffy fur, wave a magic wand, and have a pretty sweater to wear tomorrow.
Like in a J.Crew catalog.
And the whole time life is going on outside these doors of quarantine, I'm thinking, has Story been changed? Is she getting enough tummy time? Has Wilder had enough liquids and enough "structured" activity time? It's as if I think everyone's going to fall apart without Mommy.
But everybody was fine, and Grandma came to help. And Shawn even dumped out the beans I had soaking three days too long (apparently one can soak beans this long but they must be refrigerated--oops). Pew. Stinky. Gross. Frothy. Scratch that for dinner. Shawn, you are amazing.
I am on the mend, and hope to not be assuming as much too soon. I just want to get back to my babies. Back to the exhaustion that is well-earned.
Not the kind you get from leaning over the commode.
Here's to health. Be healthy, get rest.