Growing pains

I picked Alison up from school yesterday. Before I'd left work, I'd been feeling queasy, and it only intensified as I drove. Once I got to the school, I was just hoping I'd be able to collect her and get home before I hoarked in the hallway. She was playing with her friends, but happily got her things together and hurried up after I told her I wasn't feeling well. We got home and I told her she could watch television but that I needed to lay down for a while.

I crawled into bed, expecting her to curl up with me -- as she always does. After a while, I realized she wasn't coming. I dragged myself to the top of the stairs and called down to her in the family room.

"Honey, you can watch TV in my room with me," I croaked.

"That's OK, Mama. I don't want to get sick," she called back.

Intellectually and as a parent, I know I should have been proud of her. We've been teaching her for years that it's best to keep your distance from Mom and Dad when they're sick. Despite our instruction, she's always thrown caution to the wind, wrapping her tiny little body around any part she can grab and sending all the healing power she can through hugs and little touches.

Taken aback and feeling more than a little sorry for myself, I stumbed back to my sick bed. I called Jeff to be sure he'd be home soon enough to feed her, got a bucket (just in case) and collapsed. I have hazy memories of them chattering about their days and having dinner as I deposited the previous days' nutrients in the pail beside my bed.

As bedtime approached and I continued to waffle between nausea and self pity, I heard her little voice.

"Daddy, would it be OK if I went in to say goodnight to mommy?"

I swear to all that's holy I started to feel better just having heard that. Armed with permission to visit, she runs into my room and propels every one of her 53 pounds straight into my stomach, head first and grabbing on to me with all the healing zeal a 6-year-old body can hold.

The absence of contents in my intestinal tract helped me enjoy the moment. While it didn't heal my body, my soul was restored.

I'm feeling better today. I'm still in the sick bed, and the pail is still here on standby. (God bless Jeff for taking care of disposing of the earlier contents and cleaning it out. It's times like these that make you think marriage is really a good idea...)

Hope you manage to avoid the little beastie that's done me in. If not, Ali and I will come over and cheer you up. I'll hold her back from jumping on you.

I'm OK with Ali growing up and one day not needing me 24/7. I just need a moment every now and then when she throws caution to the wind and latches back on. Even if it makes me want to puke.