Sick.

I got sick this week. And by this week, I mean I was exposed during the work week, and then horror of horrors, became actually sick on Friday. What kind of cruel shit is that? I mean... I have like 20 minutes left of paid time off at work so it's good that I didn't have to call in sick but still. I said goodbye to my husband as he left, late Friday afternoon for a weekend hunting trip, with a scratchy throat, a stingy nose and a feeling of dread.

Life is not the easiest when you have a child, because you're constantly... how to put this... you're on. You're 100% On, the entire time that little kiddo monster is awake, and if you're physically in the kitchen, you are also mentally wherever bambino is. You're also mentally wherever trouble is; in the spirit of Ed Norton's character in Fight Club: "I am Jack's exposed electrical socket. I am Jack's sofa, off of which a toddler can swan dive. I am Jack's drawer whose child proofing guard snapped off five weeks ago. Why haven't I replaced that? Why is it so quiet? Alexandra, how did you manage to eat dog food when I hid it from you?!"'

But when you're sick.... oh, it becomes that much worse. Running around feeling like shit sucks, as all of us know, but running around and running around after a toddler while feeling like shit sucks, and it's also kind of scary. If I'm not in my sharpest, fittest state of being, then my child is potentially at risk.

Enter this rotten little cutie:

By rotten, I mean typical: she gets into everything, she thinks being told "No, Alex!" is hysterical and behaves accordingly, and she, like a western style horse who can not only walk, trot, canter and gallop but can also lope, also has a fifth gait: tiny ninja stealth mode.

So you'd think that this weekend would have killed me. Sick, all by myself with chores, errands, and of course, the goblin babe, how was I to survive? Well, I did because Alexandra was an absolute sweet pea. She played well by herself, sat and cuddled with me and watched Nova and Nature shows on PBS, and was a complete peach during our handful of errands. She helped me with the laundry, she ate well all day, and she never freaked out or cried during diaper changes (why a clean bottom promotes screams and cries, I will never know).

To get to the point of this post: Thank you, my sweet darling girl. You made a potentially tough couple of days  more than bearable. You made them rose colored and perfect, just like every other day.

"Shucks mama, it's no prob bob!"