I (Erin) am in bed listening to my sweet son babble to himself as he falls asleep, watching The Sound of Music for the bazillionth time, and wishing I was once again healthy. For the record, if I could have anyone’s wedding scene, it would be Maria’s in the abbey.
I am sick, again, for the thirteenth day. It is getting old.
What I had over President’s Day I thought was getting better, surely it is, but it is lingering and has teamed up with some devilish stomach bug which has kept me from being a good mom, wife, friend, teacher and hopeful half-marathon runner. Maternity leave aside, I have never taken this much time off from work.
I’ve had a lot of time to think and reflect while being sick. My thoughts range from the sad and self-pitying (no one has ever been as sick as me) to accusatory (it’s those germy kids!) to crazy (this must be the beginning of body cancer, or my bones are hollow and now filled with ashes) to prayerful (please let Sam and Ben stay healthy, please…). I hate that I’ve missed so many school days. I have a dreadful feeling about my sophomores’ upcoming research papers. And it killed me not to be able to visit my friend in the hospital who just had her very first baby.
I’ve kept a safe distance from Sam, breastfeeding when he needs it, but careful not to pass on any of my sick germs. It is hard to have a happy baby begging to play with you who doesn’t understand why you can’t. It’s even harder when he’s learning to crawl and has these bad boys popping up through his gums:
Here’s another one, just for fun.
Here’s hoping I get to kiss this little boy very soon.
And here’s a video of him crawling — er, attempting to crawl. Or doing the Worm. Whatever. It’s cute.