The Rest.

You've been on my mind. "You" meaning this blog, it's readers, or perhaps just the Great Void. The point is - I have been wanting to write a post for weeks now. My camera is chalk full of stories to be told, memories to rake through carefully and reverently, the way you rake your fingers through the gossamer hair of a young, sick child. 

While I haven't had time to do the former, I have found myself doing the latter quite a lot lately. This year's cold and flu season has hit our home with vengeance. I won't bore you with the play-by-play details (like I did my very, VERY wonderful Facebook friends) but my oldest was hit hard with walking pneumonia and then an allergic reaction to her antibiotic, then I got a stomach bug, and then my youngest got the stomach bug that she is *fingers crossed* finally over. 

The whole thing crescendo'd last night with a whirlwind trip to the emergency room for my youngest who was beginning to show signs of dehydration. Thanks to some wonderful staff at her doctor's office, the hospital and a magical little pill known as Zofran, she seems to be on the mend.

What I didn't see coming was that following the frenzied crescendo of last night, would be today: The rest. 

I am in awe of today. With two small children who were born less than two years apart, it is rare that they do anything apart. While I am usually with both of them, and sometimes with neither of them, I am very, very rarely with just one of them for any stretch of time. But today my husband drove off with my healthy Scarlett to drop her off at preschool while my still-not-feeling-it Cecilia stayed home with me. Not that I don't miss the sweet, inquisitive presence of my five-year-old, but my is this nice. 

We slept in. After kissing her sister and Daddy goodbye, baby girl turned to me, speechless, and lifted her arms up to me. I gladly complied, feeling her little body mold against mine in a way that deceives me and let's me believe she's still a baby for just a little bit longer. "My belly hurts" her raspy voice whispered into my ear. We snuggled up in bed and while the snow drifted outside our window, we drifted off to sleep. At 10:30 I woke up to her face about two inches from mine as she squealed, "I'M ALL BETTER MOMMY!" 

And I think I believe her. 

We scooped up snow in a bowl and ate it. We made snowballs and threw them out the window. We played with blocks and read books. She painted and played with play dough while Sarah McLaughlin crooned away and brought me into a place of total peace. I enjoyed the feel of my hands sudsy from dish detergent, the sound of the washer and dryer whirring rhythmically behind me. My dishes are done. My bed is made. My floors are vacuumed. And I am *almost* caught up on my laundry (a huge feat given the copious number of loads required to purge our house of anything that came in contact with the devil stomach flu Cecilia caught). And all this without breaking up fights, ignoring my child, or even worse, losing my temper.
I deliriously text my husband, gushing about my love of motherhood and how wonderful it feels to be productive. He response: Lol. I think you both needed this.

Smart man. I feel like today was one gloriously long therapy session and I have purged all the sickness and stress from my home and my body.

Anyway, I am done blubbering about this wonderful place of rest. For now. And I will be back soon with pictures and with "real" posts. Promise :)

Now it's time for me to go get ready to pick up a dearly missed daughter and sister. Looking forward to coming home to a clean house where we can sit down and she can tell us all about her adventures today.

Stay healthy, stay warm, stay appreciative. 

-T