My family is sick: the husband with a sore throat, the baby with the start of a sniffle, and the kid with a glorious case of Overdoing-Just-Need-to-Stay-Home. I feel like a jersey cow for an insatiable nursling and a nursemaid with hot tea and sympathy for everyone else.
I had expected a fun holiday weekend! There were barbecues to attend and beaches to sloth on. The kiddos’ need for comfort and my husband’s need for space begin to push my buttons and soon the inner martyr in me starts up inside my head: SHE never gets to rest when I’m sick. SHE never sleeps in. SHE never gets comfort when her throat hurts.
…this annoying family that I love with every part of my being but who know better than anyone exactly where I keep my goat. 1-Mississippi-2 Mississipi-3, and I remember the hot Cold Care tea my husband made me two nights ago when I was feeling run-down. 4-Mississippi-5-Mississippi-6 I remember the extra sleep I got while he took the baby for endless bounces around the living room and I rested with a lavender sachet on my eyes and a Yoga Nidra meditation coming in through my earphones.
I take a few more breaths and pad into the kitchen to make my peace offering. My inner martyr keeps quiet while we eat miso soup together. It’s salty and warm and it’s good for what ails us.
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