Monday, December 28, 2009

The Dream Wakes Up to Reality

I want to live in a Norman Rockwell painting.

I think it is something most women want. We want the clean house, loving husband, perfectly genius children and a hot pie sitting on the window sill. It is an impossible ideal we have set for ourselves and then get discouraged when it doesn't happen.

Or perhaps it is just me.

I woke up to a sic husband yesterday. I felt so bad for him. No one likes to be sick. But men seem to be even more pitiful than women when they are sick. At any rate, the bulk of the day was keeping Faye and Keith quiet and happy so their daddy could rest up. Once the kids had gone to bed we curled up on the bed and talked while he got pampered.

And then I woke up around 1:30.

Cold.

Stomach Ache.

Weak.

I thought nothing of it. It was 1:30 am. No one feels their best at that hour.

But when I fed Faye at 6:00 this morning, I knew it wasn't a fluke. I became just as pitiful as Jeffrey was the day before.

My dreams of getting up early and making breakfast, getting some laundry done and living in the Saturday Evening Post were shattered. My bed would not relax the grip it had on my tired bones.

And that is where I spent the majority, if not all of my day today. I am just hoping my kids don't get this awful bug.

And hopefully I can live the dream tomorrow.
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