I had a horrible bout of vertigo which kept me in bed all day today. Not an easy feat with three small children, but thankfully my husband is both not working today and descended from saints. He allowed me that rarest of joys, a mom’s day in bed. It’s just a shame I had to be ill so I couldn’t fully enjoy it.
I managed to drag myself to the kitchen at one point to beg my patron for some sustenance. Or a bowl of cereal with strawberries. My dear children crowded around the baby gate to catch a glimpse of their elusive mama.
“Mom!!! Mom!!! I need juice!!!” pined Lennon, priorities clearly in place.
“Himom!! Himom!! Siiiiiissssssies!!” screeched Baby Kieran. “Sissies” (“nursies”) are his most favorite thing, and while I like to think he was missing me, I know he was just missing my anatomy.
Jack, however, was actually concerned about my well being. “Mom? How do you feel? What do you feel?”
What? A child who was inquiring about me, and not how it related to him? I picked my jaw up off the floor and told him I just wasn’t feeling very well.
“Are you going to throw up?”
“No, baby, I’m not going to throw up.”
“Are you going to sneeze?”
“No, I’m not going to sneeze.” He pondered this. In Jack’s world, if you’re sick, you either throw up or you sneeze.
“I love you.”
That right there made me feel like a million bucks. A million bucks with vertigo.
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