I felt just fine when I left to go running tonight and I felt just fine while I was running but as soon as finished running, left the track, and stepped outside I felt the beginning of a sneeze coming on. My nose has since taken up running, too, and I don't think I've stopped sneezing since. And here I thought for sure I wasn't going to catch this cold.
Rachel has been sick since Friday. She woke up coughing in the middle of the night and begged for some medicine because her "cough is stuck and can't come out."
"Does your throat hurt?" I asked her.
"Yeah. Because my cough is stuck," she said, and then coughed some more.
We gave her some medicine and sent her back to bed but she only stayed there for about an hour before she came and climbed into bed with us.
"I just can't sleep in my own bed," she said.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because I'm coughing and coughing spreads germs. I don't want to spread germs in my bed!"
"But you can spread germs in our bed?"
She kept snuggling up to me and coughing all over my face so eventually I held her in my arms with her face facing away from mine while she slept. And coughed. And moaned. All through the night. Which meant that I didn't get a lot of sleep.
I love it when she's sick, though, because she's such a dear, sweet sickie. She didn't fight with her sister all weekend and was cheerfully obedient and uncharacteristically docile. If only she could be that way when she's feeling well. But she's not.
She started feeling better last night at around bedtime—all her spunk flooded back into her—which is a real shame because she had been so good about resting all day that she was feeling too well-rested to go to bed. So she stayed up until 11:00 PM, feisty as ever. She claimed to be hungry, which was probably true since all she had had for lunch was a single bite of sandwich and all she had had for dinner was about five more bites of said sandwich, so we told her she could have crackers and juice while she watched us play a game with Grandma and Grandpa. When we finished the game I told her she needed to brush her teeth and go to bed.
"I already brushed my teeth," she argued.
"Yes. You brushed your teeth before being sent to bed the first time but you got up and ate and now you have food and germs on your teeth again so you need to brush before going to bed this time."
"I don't want to," she wailed.
She was too sad to brush her teeth so she cried and carried on for several minutes. Probably fifteen. Finally I told her that she could brush her teeth and be miserable or brush her teeth and be happy but, either way, she was going to brush her teeth. She told me that she was too sad to brush her teeth and calming down is just too hard so she would not be brushing her teeth. I told her that she could either brush her teeth herself or I'd do it for her.
The night climaxed with me pinning her to the floor and brushing her teeth while she screamed bloody murder.
It was an epic battle.
Her screams woke up Miriam. Andrew retrieved her from her crib and said she looked so concerned that he took her to see what was going on. When she saw that the screams were coming from Rachel and that nothing very serious or life-threatening was going on she started laughing and pointing.
Today Rachel told me she hated me...because...I can't even remember now. I think it was because I didn't know off the top of my head where random-toy-she-wanted-to-play-with was. Or because I asked her to pick up her socks or told her she couldn't watch a movie. I really don't remember. But, yes, Rachel is almost better now. Her volatile attitude is all the evidence I need that she is in good health.
It's good that she gets sick sometimes because then I can remember that there is a nice girl tucked away somewhere deep down inside of her. I love that nice girl a whole lot. I love spunky Rachel, too, but nice Rachel is typically much more pleasant to be around.
After our lesson tonight at FHE, Rachel asked for a "why-bin."
"A what?" I asked.
"A why-bin," she said.
"A why-bin?" I asked.
"Yes," she said, "A why-bin."
"What's a why-bin?" I asked.
"You know. It's something what you eat that has lots of things to make you feel healthy and healthier."
"Ummm..." I pondered.
"And it looks like a dinosaur..." she offered.
"Oh! I vitamin?"
"Yeah. A why-bin."
So we gave her a vitamin to help her finish getting better and when I came home from running I had a why-bin, too. With all the coughing she's been doing (on my face) I'm surprised it has taken me this long to get sick.
I just love that girl. I hope you both have enough why-bins to keep you well through the rest of winter! (maybe asking too much?)ReplyDelete
I used to tell my mom I hated her all the time. In fact, when I had kids and they DIDN'T tell me that when they were upset with me, I wondered what was wrong with them. I thought it was normal to hate your mom sometimes and yell it in her face. I would proclaim my hatred and mom would say, "Well, I love you." And that would make me so MAD! So...I am sorry to know that particularly piece of my own feistiness has found its way into Rachel. Just know that she doesn't really hate you, she just feels things strongly and so she says what she feels.ReplyDelete
I brought home Buckleys.ReplyDelete