Matt and I were up late visiting friends last night. Around 12:30a.m. I began to feel queasy, and around 1:00am I nearly drug Matt out the door still talking as he went. I thought I was just overtired, but when I woke with nausea and a stomachache at four a.m. I knew there was more troubling me.
Matt got up with the kids, and I tossed and turned miserably 'till 10:00a.m. Tired of being miserable by myself, I stumbled up the swirling stairs and collapsed on the couch. Toby ran to tackle me, but when his head touched mine he recoiled with a puzzled look. He reached tentatively to touch my head, then quickly withdrew his hand, "Hot!"
The fever and nausea have persisted all day. With the exception of a few bathroom trips (one of which ended up with me lying on the bathroom floor), I've spent the day lying miserably on the couch or trying futilely to sleep in bed. This has put Matt and my mother-in-law on emergency kid duty. Unfortunately, Matt is supposed to preach at our church tomorrow, and the children have been less than cooperative with his preparation efforts. Apparently my absence makes the perfect occasion for spills, messes, fights, coloring on non-washable surfaces, and misbehavior of various other dramatic varieties. When I mused about dealing with our kids like the old woman who lived in the shoe Hannah commented, "Well, if her children had Celiac it was good that she didn't give them any bread, so maybe she was a good mama." And all these years we've wrongfully scorned her.
So I lie on the couch, pecking at the keyboard with one hand, truly unable to help my dear husband put the children to bed. Somehow I'm confident that the kids will soon be asleep, and Matt's sermon will turn out fine tomorrow, though I don't think I'll be there to see it.