The last two weeks have been, well, terrible.
She'd been sick with a cold(s) since Christmas, but that seemed normal. Then a stomach flu, which I got the next day, then the day after a double ear infection diagnosis. Ugh, what a week, right? Two or three days with slight improvement then back at the doctor with a fever of 105.4. A virus probably. Then back at the doctor, and again, and again. An allergy to amoxicillin, a head to toe case of hives that will last for a week or more, a blood test and a catheter. Back at the doctor. 5 times in 9 days. Still getting over this weird virus, and tugging at her ear again this morning.
I had a two part root canal in there too.
I mean, oy vey.
I'm not going to lie, it's been a rough go, and I am at the end of my rope. Tears come easily and my patience is worn quite thin. I'd be happy cuddling her and holding her to the end of time, but laying on the couch and watching Dora is getting a little old. And I miss my daughter. I miss my mobile daughter. I miss her laughter and smile. I miss her funny, active, busy self. I've had a miserable, rashy, whiny lump of a mess who won't get off my lap but won't be kissed or touched. I want her healthy, I want to know that she's OK. I want her back. I want me back.
She's napping today, one of the first real naps in weeks. And instead of watching the last Downton Abbey, I'm in my bedroom, burning a candle, listening to Joni Mitchell, writing thank yous and catching up on some things.
I can feel myself creeping back.
I guess this is what they call self-care.