Sick Day

He woke this morning with a stuffy head. It was packed, he said. Bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, he said. And he said it again and again. He whined. He complained.

His nose was runny, and it stayed that way all day, wipe after wipe. A red, raw patch developed beneath his nose, and that gave him another thing to complain about. 

His head hurt. That seemed to come and go, but no matter where it went while it was gone it always came back. That led to more complaining. More whining. 

His stomach was upset, off and on, and when it was on everyone knew.

Everyone. 

Knew.

Trust me.

Spending the day with Handsome like this is not easy. It's trying on everyone involved.

So I owe him an apology.

You see, the 'him' and 'he' mentioned above were ... me.

As I told Handsome when I put him to bed tonight:

"I'm sorry, Handsome, but when Daddy is sick it's awful, just awful! Not for me, so much, but everyone around me is in trouble. You see, when I don't feel good I turn into the biggest, most helplessest (yes, I made up a word) baby you ever did see."

His response? A hug and a pat on the back as he said "Yeah, I know. I really hope you feel better tomorrow."

I love that kid.

So here I go, off to bed, finally, where I've wanted to be all day long. I have my box-o-tissues, my bottle of TussinCF, my nasal spray, my Excedrine, my Pepto Bismol, one stuffed monkey and (just in case of emergency) a binky on the nightstand.

Now all I need is someone to sing a lullabye and rock me to sleep, and I'll be all set.
Wish me luck.

Talk to you later!
(If I make it, I mean, 'cuz my tummy feels yucchy, and my head feels all stuffy, and my eyes...)