The Misappropriation of Medication

For Christmas my husband gave me his cold.  It looked awful when he had it and it feels awful now that I have it.  I'm not sure how he managed to get up and do anything with the children while he was in the worst of it.  There were two days he seemed to try and hide in the hoodie of a sweat shirt for most of the day.

I'm getting all the fun symptoms he had so he's been able to tell me how much longer I'll have with this next phase before I move on to the following fun bodily breakdown before I get better.  I have one advantage over him as he went through the cold and I feel guilty about it.

I have pain medication.  I have pain medication prescribed for a valid reason--the three large holes in my behind.  They hurt, oh yes, they hurt.  But that pain medication, while making my bottom much more manageable, is making me feel like there's a chance I'll feel somewhat normal again at some distant time in the future.  Basically, it's giving me hope.

I don't know how he did it but I am so very thankful that the pain medication, in addition to making the intended locations less painful, are helping in the head throbbing, eyeball aching, nose rawing (rawing?  Is that a word?   I'm sick so I'm going to bend some language rules today and not feel badly about it,) and body aching ills.  

The Big Boy Update:  In her crib?  He is loving the new toddler bed.  He can get in and out of it and yet he does sleep when it's time to go to bed.  His bed is a comfort place for him.  It's going so well, I'm thinking we might convert his sister's bed into a toddler bed sooner than we did his.  But having her bed still a crib is a bit of protection for her from him.  He can push things between the slats, but she's got her own space, or so I thought.  This afternoon when I thought they were both finally going to sleep I hear her upset.  I go up to find him in her crib.  How in the...  He's never done it before, but he managed to climb in via the chair beside her crib.  He wanted the toy she had. 

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  "Thank you."  She is saying, "thank you."  I don't think I would have believed it if two separate people, my mother and my husband, both told me independently that when you hand her something she says, "thank you" but she definitely does.   Not that those two very important people in my life would lie about something, don't get me wrong there, but I wouldn't expect a thirteen-month-old to be saying, "thank you" of her own accord.  But she says it when you hand her something.  It's very tiny sounding and rather staccato, and sounds like, "dank ooo."

Someone Once Said:  The supreme irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive.