I Washed My Hair in Peace

For eight solid days, as we've ridden a roller coaster of illnesses, I've been nurse, cook, laundress, cleaner, and comforter in chief.  All hours of the night.  In sickness and in health.  In quarantine.  Through pajama days and pharmacy runs.  Through mouth sores and concussions and runny noses and coughs and lots and lots and LOTS of tears.  I've had a child clinging to each pant leg, a child bouncing on each hip, a child screaming in each ear.  There have been sweet, snuggly moments and there have been moments when I've dissolved in tears.  I've hugged and held and shushed and patted and sung and read.  And it's been a blessing to be able to care for my babies like that.  But the reality is that it is just tough--really, really tough--caring for a sick 1 year old and a sick 2 year old, while sick and pregnant myself.  Well, today I cried uncle.

Our fully germ-warned babysitter agreed to come give me a break.  If I'd felt better, I would have leapt for joy. 

I retreated to the gym for a slow and short elliptical ride, followed by lots of stretching.

I took a walk.

I WASHED MY HAIR IN PEACE.  It was revolutionary.

I sneezed and snuffled my way through a bowl of spicy Thai coconut soup, with Kleenex in one hand and the Mister's Kindle in the other.

I did a few loads of laundry.

I Christmas-shopped.

I rested.

I feel rejuvenated, and have a renewed hope that one day soon we will all be well at the same time.  Soon, soon.  But for now, a little more holding and shushing is in order.