I kissed and kissed and hugged and smothered Yakob with love. I thought I was invisible to his virus.
Friday morning, as I drove home with the kids, I started coughing. By nap time, I could only whisper as I read books to Miro. And to think I was going to run in the rain last Thursday night! I am not invincible. I must repeatedly convince myself.
I was early in bed Friday night. Feeling cold, feverish and weak. I have never felt this sick for a long time now. I would have the occasional cold and cough and a day of rest was enough for me.
Maybe Saturday the whole day in bed will do. I drank lots of fluids, and the babies were herded off from my corral by the Lovely Sgt. Nik so I could sleep, undisturbed. But every whimper and laughter and shout of glee and scream of disgust would wake me up.
Our weekday helper had left and our weekend helper couldn't make it too. Her husband was sick. Our stay-in helper had an eye infection and asked to be sent home to rest.
My ever-reliable Hubby performed his magic tricks: early morning market, cooking, bathing the babies and Kuya and Ate were his strong back-up team. By afternoon, he decided to get my temp (39C!) and commanded that I took medicine. He wanted me to be alright for Mother's Day the next day.
I think I have, through 20 years of motherhood, overcome the struggle of being able to relax on Mother's Day. But I have an issue about getting sick. Specially when it's Mother's Day and there's no house help.
Oh, God help me get out of this sick bed, and this sadness.
Night time came and though I was still ill, I felt so encouraged by how Team Wafooms did it, without me, serving me even like a Queen. A sick ngongo barking Queen.
I wake up to a sunny Mother's Day. As usual my alarm was the sound from the babies' room.
I'm feeling much better. I know the flu requires days of recovery but that doesn't mean I can't party. In my bed.
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