Contagious

I'm upstairs on my keyboard spreading my germs all over the keys for the next ignorant person to run their fingers across. Yes, this means I am sick. Roman was under the weather, although he is doing better, but still battling a cold. He generously glommed it on to me. You see he sleeps on top of my head a majority of the nights, sometimes completely rendering me helpless since my hair is pulled so tight I have to cry out for help so that Den will grab the chubby toddler around the belly, and place him on an appropriate pillow somewhere in the middle of the bed, instead. This type of sleeping arrangement makes for a sick mommy when she has a sick baby. Ahhhh true love!

I thought I was nipping this bug in the bud, but I guess it's an ensuing battle that leaves us in overtime, wondering whose gonna win.

I got up this morning, after I emailed a friend to tell them that we were finally on the mend (lies all lies), and headed downstairs to start the morning ritual. I carried Roman downstairs in his pjs on my hip, placed him on the red couch in front of the gas fireplace, flipped on the switch to where we all enjoy instant fire, and I quickly turned the channel to Noggin for toddlers. All is right in his world as we begin to work on breakfast. However, this morning I found myself lingering around the fireplace, quickly grabbing a couch pillow, and eventually passed out on the floor as Roman pats my arm a hundred times to verify that I am still alive. I ignore all his pleas until the boys come in to rescue him, or was it me, either way.

I slept on the hard floor in front of the fire for over an hour, in an out of deep sleep. The floor didn't feel extraordinarily comfortable, but I found that I was too exhausted to move my body to the couch for the longest time. This is when it came to me that I needed to accept the fact that I was sick! Just deal with it Trina!

So I asked Levi to fix me some soup. To which I got a lukewarm bowl of lumpy cream of chicken soup, that Roman eagerly pounced on with his runny little nose. I allowed him to lap it all up, while I patiently gave him bite after bite. Then I had another bowl delivered, equally lumpy and equally lukewarm and devoured it like it was my last supper.

So here I am, back upstairs. Den said he would come home early to care for me (super sweet). We shall see what time he can get home to me, but I thought it was super kind of him to try. For now, I am going to hit "publish" and drift off to the bed that is calling my name behind me, and wait til I hear my prince charming to arrive. What will he be able to do for me? Nothing, really, but it does my heart good.