Birthday Plans: Take day off. Have breakfast with friends. Drop kids off (her at preschool, him with Grandma). Get a massage. Shop, drink coffee, read book. Pick kids up. Take nap together, all cuddled into King Size bed. Dinner out. Cake. Wine.
Breakfast Reality: Sick 3 year old the day before, so they both stayed home with me since she wasn't cleared to go back to school and he might be carrying her plague and I didn't want to expose my niece, who goes to Grandma's on Fridays, to said plague. Lazy morning at home. Shopping and lunch with my mom. Home for naps. Belly hurting. Kids awake, dog about to puke in house, run to let her out, lose my own lunch. Proceed to thrash about on the couch, moaning and clutching my stomach, getting up occasionally to throw up more. Call husband to come help me. Send husband and kids out to dinner so I can be miserable alone. Can't muster up ability to drink chocolate shake husband brought home for me. Accept sand cake with stick candle from Luca in lieu of chocolate cake. Fall asleep on couch.
The only saving graces were these two sweet kids. Every time I got sick, he was there patting my leg saying, "Oh! Ok, mama? Ok? Ok. Ok, mama. Awww." And she was there to help me prop up with pillows. I was glad, in the end, that they were home with me keeping me company with those honey sweet cheeks.
(Speaking of cheeks: his are super patchy. It's a winter thing, I think, though my mom thinks it's eczema and friends have suggested perhaps it's a food sensitivity. Either way, I feel bad for his sweet plum cheeks.)
The picture of the back of Mo's head, as he cuddles his Puppy and Bear melts me. HE melts me.
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