Saturday morning found me kneeling in an inglorious position in front of my toilet. Some sort of stomach bug hit us in full force this weekend, attacking half of the family in 24 hours. This nasty creature showed no mercy and hit where it hurt right out of the gates - mom got sick first. This does not a happy Saturday make! My poor husband, who was feeling half-way to death himself with a brutal sinus infection and was planning on a weekend of rest and recovery, found himself rallying the troops and manning the house, the laundry, the soccer game, the sick me, and all while he would have much preferred to be the one with his hurting head under the covers. He, as is so often the case, was my hero this weekend. He was my knight in shining armor. By noon, my hero had battled my dragon with a script for an anti-nausea drug, crushed ice and water, and a quiet room, soft bed, and sweet solitude. Did I mention that he is my hero? By the end of the day he had been puked on, twice, by our two year old. He had been to the pharmacy, twice, for medicine and milk. He had done loads of laundry, prepared three meals, and the house was clean when I made my way down for the first time at 5:00 pm. He was sick. He was really sick. But, because he wasn't throwing up like some of us, he soldiered on. Did I mention that he is my hero?
This man of mine - he's a keeper.
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