Was it just yesterday or the day before that I was wishing so fervently that I could have a little break? Well, the universe--in its inimitable, irritating way--just made that possible. After Chip and I spent most of last week coughing, hacking and sneezing, Connery has now come down with the crud. "You wanted slow?" the universe chuckled. "I'll give you slow. Try 10 hours of nebulizer treatments and Wonder Pets. And be hella glad that he hasn't discovered WebKinz yet."
For the first couple of years of Connery's bouts with illness (he was never sick as an infant, lucky for me), I would feel guilty about letting him watch TV all day when he was sick. When I would stay home with him, I would grimly plan low-impact activities, including bundling him up and pushing him around the neighborhood in a stroller. Fresh air! Sunshine! Finally, I came to my senses. When I'm sick, the last thing I'd want would be to have Mommy Earnestest forcing me outside for my own good. No, sickness calls for television and lots of it. And blankets. And possibly popsicles.
Naturally, the arrival of his illness coincides with a long-planned visit from Nana and Grandpa and the forthcoming birthday weekend. My hope is that keeping him home today will mean he can forestall some of the worst of it, but we all know how the universe feels about best-laid plans.
On the upside, maybe I'll finally get more than two blog posts in a week. That would be exciting.