I woke up in the middle of the night Tuesday coughing and feeling like my bronchia were on fire. I finally went to sit in Ken’s recliner and felt well enough to snooze a bit. When Reid woke in the morning, I went up and lying down with her brought the fire back. Not being dumb, I figured out the connection and kept myself upright for the rest of the day. Despite a nap, I wimped out of my offer to take Reid to swimming class since Ken had a meeting to attend afterward. While they were gone I decided they deserved a clean wife/mother and took a bath. Lying in the tub was enough to make me feel awful again. I managed to gulp my supper with Ken and Reid but left the table before they were done. This is the part where I truly began my swanning and wingeing. Reid immediately declared herself full but wasn’t allowed to follow me. I’m a bad influence, don’t you know?
I managed to read a couple of stories to Reid before sending her upstairs to bed. She cried a bit when I wouldn’t come up and then she covered me with one of her quilts, gave me a couple of her books and a toy. Finally, with a teardrop on each cheek, Reid gave me a kiss and a long, squeezy hug. Oh, is there anything as strong as mama-guilt. Well, at that moment, my pain triumphed over the mama-guilt and Reid went upstairs with her perfectly capable and loving daddy. I was asleep in the recliner before Ken got back downstairs. I’m such a baby! Don’t ever let me say Ken is a suck when he is sick. He isn’t as bad as me.