Tonight I was making a last-minute dinner of pancakes, and both kids were freaking out wanting me to hold them. (Oh, how I love dinner times without Andrew. Cooking a real meal is no small miracle.) I appeased them with frozen blueberries (their favorite treat) and enjoyed a few minutes of silence.
Then Eva came in the kitchen and said, "Mama, I'm sick. But I don't want medicine." And then added cheerfully, "Thank you, though!" I laughed harder than I had all day. I hadn't even offered her medicine. That girl sure HATES medicine.
Midway through FHE at our friend's house, she started running a fever (I think) and got really lethargic and tired. We immediately left for home and I put her down to bed.
Sick kids - the bane of my existence. I know it's terrible, but more than feeling sympathy for Eva I feel resentment that I'll have to miss boxing class tomorrow. I'm sure I'm supposed to learn something from all of this. Patience, maybe?