And just like that, I am up again.

Yesterday was golden.

Now, I realize that the three previous days consisted entirely of lying greasy-headed in sweat-soaked pajamas on the couch, propping myself up from horizontal just long enough to force down 6400mg of ibuprofen and a penicillin tablet followed with an Xtreme Grape! juice box chaser, but nonetheless. Yesterday. Golden.

A friend took Bug to church while Lorso went in to work to make up some hours from the day he stayed home to mop my fevered brow. And get me Gatorade. And write my blog post. And take care of Bug. And end world hunger. Ok, he didn’t actually get to that last one, but he actually MOPPED MY FEVERED BROW. Can abolishing world hunger be far behind?

So I was home alone for four and a half blissful hours. I shuffled around! I washed my sheets! I washed my hair! I shuffled around some more! It was awesome.

And when Bug returned from church and lunch, he walked right in the door and handed me a flower. “I got you a flower, Mama. It’s your favorite color.” he said. “Are you feeling better?”

“He found it in the parking lot of the restaurant, on the ground,” my friend said, half apologetically. It was flat as a pancake, missing petals and partly dead. But by golly, it was pink. “I love it, Bug. Thank you. And I am feeling better.” He smiled, turned, went in his room, closed the door, turned off the light, and then PUT HIMSELF DOWN FOR A NAP. I am not making this up.

He slept for three hours, too, and in those three hours I had two really great conversations – one with my friend that brought Bug home, and after she left, one with the Lorso. I like talking to the Lorso.

He and I finally woke Bug up from his nap and then the three of us went to dinner to celebrate the fact that I appeared to be human again. And although there isn’t anything of substance that I can write about our meal at the restaurant, it was just one of those times. One of those instances where you feel like everything around you stops and you look around at what you have and who you have and you think, this is all I need. And the music from the speakers is like a soundtrack to that moment, and it’s perfect.

We drove home in the rain and we played the game Raise Your Hand If, which is highly popular among the three year old crowd. This time was the first time Bug volunteered to ask the questions however, and the game was instantly catapulted from amusing to Best Game Ever.

“Raise your hand if you were a tiny baby in your Mommy’s belly before you were born!” he yelled with glee. “Raise your hand if you have a face!”

For Bug, the game’s the most fun when everyone gets to raise a hand.

At home the game continued, the three of us on the couch taking turns asking the questions, and I thought about how I felt so euphoric, so filled up. Was it just because I was so miserably, awfully sick and now I felt like myself again? Was it because I finally had a meal that required chewing? Maybe. But I hope it was more than that. Because it felt like more than that.

“Raise your hand if you love your Mommy!” Bug shouted to end our game, leaping to his feet on the cushion beside me, arms already outstretched, both hands waving high above my head.


February 18, 2008   8 Comments