Last week happened. The Mister and I were both sick, both down with fevers, both muddling through the days with two healthy boys. It was a bit like being kicked in the teeth, but not anything worth complaining or whining about. We were both sick and had to make it work. We did. So have a million other parents, including you. We all go through it and we all survive. The end.
I’m doing better now, a little tired because Mikey came down with our bug and has a high fever. I worry. I don’t sleep. I check on him more than necessary and bring him his favorites: applesauce, movies, cold compresses for his forehead and lots of tissues.
On Sunday my dad called to compliment me on a salad I made over the weekend and to see how Mikey was feeling. He commented on the hard a beating we received from this year’s cold and flu season. I agreed, but I think it’s just our turn. It seems like every couple of years most people go through a “sicker than everyone else” spell. It’s been two years since we’ve really been sick together, so I suppose that means we were due.
After I got off the phone I went to the store to buy some medicine and cookies. It wasn’t as cold and rainy as the day before, but by the time I got home the sky hung black in the north and the wind took advantage of the forgiving trunks of the palm trees. It was both sinister and beautiful. I stayed outside to watch the clouds race across the sky until the bags from Target became uncomfortable to hold.