sickday

I'm sick.

Like,
lie in bed all day kind of sick. Where you cough lots, find it hard to sit up, you nurse a super sore throat, sleep lots, have your husband come home to hang with the kids for a few hours, and have your lunch brought to you in bed by a sweet boy. The kind of sick day you could maybe enjoy,

except for the fact you feel so sick.

I have no idea really what the kids have done today. Other than

make me a sweet get well card/box,

A home-made pill box,
where each pill-looking thing was part of a get-well message written on little scrolls.
Beautiful.

play on the computer, create a paper airplane with a feather attached to see how it flies, practice music, go to band, talk, help, write stories, watch a movie,

and read and read and read.

Really, almost nothing, right? :)

On a sick day, when everything hurts, when you can't keep your kids entertained, help them with their projects or get them to places they need to be, and when you can't even look after them, your mind goes to Worry easily. You think—does this count? As a learning day? Am I a good homeschooling mum? Am I failing? Should they be at school? Etc etc and Ugh.

Those are the sounds a sick Me makes. But the sounds a sick person makes aren't reliable. Neither is the Worry we swing to when our guard is down.

Whereas the Happy my kids feel, the kindness they show, the contentment shining out

are all real.

I know it even through the fog.


And a sick day had cats in it. Keeping close. Keeping company. Which I thought was nice.