Sunday Miracle

Being sick sucks. It sucks so bad.  

This past week, I hated everything and everyone, not because I really hate everything and everyone but because I felt so terrible.  It was just a cold. A horrible chest cold that makes it hard to breathe and makes you hate everything and everyone.  I felt like I was trudging through mud covered with thick fog and it was hot and then cold and then hot again. 

I was mean to my family.  I snapped at Tim all week and then cried because I said he wasn't being nice to me. I wasn't making sense.  When the kids turned up the music I didn't care, I didn't dance. Nothing made sense anymore.

I was a mess.

Yesterday morning after a long, cough-filled, sweaty night, I cracked opened my eyes and groaned at the dogs for waking me up and to my surprise my voice wasn't as deep as Bea Arthur's. I sat up in bed and rolled my neck around and it didn't hurt. I was scared to think that maybe, just maybe I felt better.  But it was true, I did feel better.  

Not only was my sore throat and the feeling like someone was sitting on my chest gone, my anger and hatred of everything and everyone was gone too.  I felt like a somewhat normal person again. Then I realized that the weekend wasnt' over and I was well enough to enjoy the last day before the work week started.  I was elated.  I felt like Scrooge when he woke up from his terrible dream and realized that he hadn't missed Christmas. I felt like running to the window and throwing open the shutters and asking a street urchin what day it was.  And when he replied "Sunday ma'am" I planned on throwing out a penny and telling him to go buy a turkey or something to celebrate that it was still the weekend. Then I would scream joyfully "I didn't miss it! Happy weekend to all!" 

After breakfast I apologized to Tim for everything I had said the week before, he looked confused but grateful that I wasn't yelling at him and then crying.  The kids turned on music and I danced. The world made sense again.

I quickly proceeded to get totally exhausted from our normal Sunday that is jam packed with too many activities for any normal family and collapsed into bed after watching an ultra-violent episode of Sons of Anarchy.  

This was actually pre-miraculous sick free wake up. I got out of my sick bed on Saturday to resume my job as family paparazzi. I loved cheering on Peyton but I hated everything and everyone else. Waaaaa.

I smiled for this picture that someone offered to take with me in it but it was fake because even ice cream couldn't make me happy that day. I was annoyed with Tim for buying the family ice cream on a cold day. Whaaaat? It was the sickness because usually any day is a good day for ice cream.

The boys' football games were on Sunday this weekend...the day I finally felt better. Phew.

It was parents' day at Peyton's game but it might as well have been little brothers' day. The little boys' greeted him on the parent line and cheered the loudest. They look up to Peyton and just love him so much.

It was a busy day, but it was such a good day. I liked stuff, I smiled at people, I danced, I took the dog for a walk, I cheered my kids on and felt like myself.

Bring it on Monday. This week has to be better than last week, I mean because last week sucked. So yeah, bring it week.