As I sat in my rocking chair this afternoon, my daughter told me that she was sketching a picture of me. I was going in and out of a 101 degree fever-induced slumber with tissues hanging from my face and my mouth in a wide open gape of a hole. To let in air, of course, since I haven't been able to breathe since Thursday morning. The last time I'd taken a shower up to this point was, again, Thursday morning and it's safe to say that this could possibly have been the first time I'd left my bed in 36 hours. Except to take my daughter to school on Friday, but I don't really remember doing that. All I know is she got there.
During the time it took my daughter to finish her sketch, I had opened my eyes a few times only to be told I was moving around too much. Oh, and did I want my picture to be in color? Sure. Zzzzz..... I was ready to see her sketch of me, sprawled out on a rocking chair with limbs hanging off of every side. And, of course, the wispy tissues coming out of my nose, my hair in naturally styled display of rat's nest, and, possibly, a little drool coming out of my mouth. Well, maybe not the drool considering I was slightly dehydrated.
I got this instead:
Aren't I just positively radiant and lovely?!?! I couldn't help but kiss her for this one. My daughter totally had a prime opportunity to make me look like a big pile of poop. I certainly felt like a big pile of poop. But instead, she made me look like Mom-Who-Makes-Pancakes-On-Saturday-Mornings-With-An-Extra-Serving-Of-Love instead of Mom-Who-Wakes-Up-And-Chugs-Her-Tylenol-And-Sticks-Kleenex-In-Her-Nose. Oh, about that kiss I gave her in exchange for the picture...no harm done. She's the one who gave me the flu, anyway.