Last night I was feeling bad enough to take a Naproxen (and to regret that I haven't refilled my Flexeril or Vicodin scrips). And I'm one of those for unfortunate insomniacs for whom things like painkillers and alcohol have the opposite effect, and actually keep me awake worse than I would normally be. So, instead of sleeping last night, I drifted between consciousness and painfully vivid dreams involving hordes of cockroaches, being 6 hours late for work, and being a pirate on the Black Pearl (and, just like, some random pirate, and not Capt. Jack Sparrow's girlfriend or anything).
Also, my husband has been feeling crappy since yesterday morning, and woke up this morning feeling even worse. Since he works a very physically tasking job (that often involves heavy machinery), he had to call out from work, if not for his own sake, then for everyone else's safety.
Even worse, my son has been going through a growth spurt, been cranky, and REALLY fighting sleep at night. After this weekend, I just needed a break today.
Well, my first break came when my sweet husband, even though he's sick, asked if there was anything I wanted him to do around the house while he's off today. Since he's twice the domestic goddess I'll ever be, I just told him I trust his judgment.
I grabbed my coffee, kissed my husband bye, and walked over to my son's highchair to give him a kiss before I left.
"Bye baby," I said. "Mommy loves you."
His response? "Love you Mommy."
My son is not quite two, and I've never heard him say "I love you" before. My husband's told me he's heard him say "I love Mommy" times when I had to go somewhere and he was sad he couldn't come with me. But he's never actually said it when I'm in earshot.
So, to recap, I'm exhausted, in pain (from adhesions AND sunburn), fuzzy from painkillers (that didn't even really work), and it's one of the busiest Monday mornings at the office.
But my toddler son told me he loved me, so it's going to be a good day.
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