So around May and June I was strutting around the place, sickness free, with everyone around me, dropping with the cold and flu. When I say “strut”, I mean, strut. I was arrogant and all “I told you so” with the kids. (Wear warm clothes, out shoes on, where’s your scarf and beanie? etc, etc)
So a week out from CIAF, I fall, and fall hard – fever, cough etc. Somehow I come good enough to drive to Cairns, do the madness that was the exhibition, and drive home again. And now, a week later, I’m hit again – temps, vomiting, blocked nose, and praying for no sore throat.
But what I wanted to reflect on, is how amazing the kids have been through my two bouts of sickness. They’ve,
- made me countless cups of tea (clearly trained to believe that tea fixes everything)
- growled me for not wearing warm clotheS
- growled me for looking at my phone when I should be asleep
- looked for cough lollies and panadol for me
- dispensed lots of cuddles and tucking into bed
- offering me blankets and pillows
It’s so lovely to see the concern and tenderness in them. I’m sick, but their caring has made the whole month a lot a better.