I’ve been sick since Thursday. It was hardly anything worth noting on that day, but I went to bed that night hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.
I was actually able to get a run in on Friday, and again, went to bed hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.
Saturday arrived and Randy’s mom and dad came over for breakfast. Despite orders to stand clear of me, I was certain I was on the mend.
I’m gonna go lay down for a bit.
Which turned into: I think we should have Mother’s Day dinner tonight. Only to not be able to eat it. The sinus pressure was so bad, I felt nauseous. (I did get to hear 5 of the sweetest toasts ev.er. Oh, how I wished I had a recording of them all…)
I was in bed by 7. Slept horribly and fitfully between coughing spells.
By Sunday, it had climaxed into fever, aches and pains all over, coughing… the works.
One might think such a day would be utterly ruined by the flu. But in many ways, it was the most authentically real Mother’s Day. They make me feel so special, loved and appreciated every single day, that it didn’t matter that I was sick in bed on Mother’s Day.
The best gift? Knowing how amazingly blessed I am and how super awesome my family is. I know that they love me, were concerned about me and missed me. Being able to just be sick and have my family understand and function smoothly without me is priceless.
(Just Write at the EO)