It’s the first beautiful day of the year. The sun shines brightly into my house. The kids are smiling. The mailman arrives at the door in shorts. The stems of one hundred tulip bulbs I planted last fall while gloriously pregnant are beginning to rise proudly from the ground, like magic. The weedwacker fanatics are eagerly coming out of hibernation, buzzing around their lawns, looking for stray pieces of grass to cut so that no one even considers taking a nap.
Me? I’ve been in bed for most of the day, recovering.
Maybe I would have avoided the throes of the stomach bug if I hadn’t gone to a friend’s house last night for our monthly ladies’ night and drank wine on a fairly empty stomach. Or maybe the bug was brewing all day, and that’s why it felt like a fog had descended over me after lunch time.
Either way, I can’t enjoy this day, this most beautiful day of the year so far.
While my head is still cloudy, while it pounds, ever so slightly, while I don’t want to fully consider ingesting any kind of food just yet, I couldn’t help but feel that this day was…relaxing?
I tend to carry around a lot of guilt. Relaxing fully is hard for me, because I always think–I always know–there is something else I ought to be doing. I think the reason I love blogging so much, and reading other blogs, is that it feels like a rebellion, a way to shirk duties, just a little bit, when the dishwasher needs to be emptied, the floors need to be swept, the tornado of clothes needs to be dealt with, the baby needs to be tickled. When I’m sick, I actually see it as a sort of break.
Isn’t that sad?
When I’m sick, I go easy on myself. I let the house get messy. I put less pressure on myself. I lie in bed.
Today, my husband stayed home to handle the kids and the plumbing problem in the basement. I’ve had to do neither. I stayed in bed, pretty much all day, and slept. And while I’d like to be healthy, enjoying this day with a brisk walk, talking to neighbors, I was also glad to have an opportunity to stay in my very comfortable bed. All day. With no diapers to change, no lunch to make, no questions to answer.
I’m wondering if someone could capitalize on this sick gratitude of mine. In fact, I think they certainly can. The economy is still suffering. Could a crew of unemployed men–perhaps young, and perhaps good-looking–arrive in a van to take care of my kids for the day while I sleep? While I read? While I blog? My family will eat Ramen Noodles all week so that I can pay handsomely.
Because my husband has to go back to work tomorrow.
Image: “Dad and daughter” by roodog via Flickr using a Creative Commons license.