Between October 2014 and June 2015, some or all in our house were sick. It was absolutely terrible. We made it to mid December this year with no sickness, and I was ecstatic about that.
Yesterday I woke up feeling really awful. The kids stayed home from school and it was a woozy, sick, loud, messy day.
There were highlights, however.
The big thing was Tyler's help. Hot damn, that man is a team player.
This little boy, who wants nothing whatsoever to do with me, rested his teeny little hand on my arm while we watched Yo Gabba Gabba.
This girl, once she found out mom was sick, appeared with an apple, a glass of water, and a salad. Then stood over me asking when I was going to eat the salad.
In spite of these enchanting little moments, I did what I always do at the end of the day, which is ask myself how in the world I'm going to do it again tomorrow.
This is my obsession, the paradoxical nature of what I'm doing. These children are killing me. These children give me life. These children are aging me. These children are keeping me young. I have so much to teach these children. They have so much to teach me.
I would gladly forgo further life lessons to feel healthy today, which so far I do. Fingers crossed.