It's not every day that a mom gets a vacation. For me, it only happens when I'm sick. That's right, apparently, I get the full all-inclusive-resort treatment when my resources are exhausted (only wish I'd discovered this sooner - I'd have stopped taking vitamin C so vigilantly long ago, and let nature take it's course).
As I rest in bed all day, my four year old comes to "take away my trash" (since I was border-line delusional, I'm not actually sure what he was trashing, bills, hopefully:)), bring me water, kiss my forehead, and speak sweetly in a quiet voice (the same one he can never seem to find when I'm well). My husband takes a day off work, runs me a bubble bath, brings me literature to read, and assumes my roles as best he can (short of breastfeeding our 6 month old). At the end of the day, just as I'm starting to feel a bit better (after changing a total of zero diapers, cruising through a novel and a half, and actually getting to nap to my hearts content during the daylight hours), my husband tells me he's wiped out, and slumps into bed at 8pm saying "Gosh, Lois, do you feel like this every day?" I nod truthfully and smile gently, relieved that he didn't outdo me, and content that he recognizes motherhood for the hard work it is.
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