Monday, November 19, 2007

But whenever Monday comes...

I am home sick again. Hopefully for the last day, for real this time. I finally called the doctor this morning to ask what kinds of cold medicines and remedies are safe while I am breastfeeding so I am now following this regimen: nasal strips, saline spray and Target’s version of Robitussin. (And Werther’s Original to, um, soothe my throat. No, serious!)

I remember when I was little I loved to take Dimetapp when I was sick because it tasted so good and grapey. I fought with my parents against the less desirable medicines and cringed and shuddered to choke them down. I had a flashback of being eight years old again today and swallowing generic cough medicine. Holy baloney, is there really nothing they can do about that wretched taste? I know it would add unnecessary sugars but I am willing to drink those unnecessary sugars if I can swallow that stuff without wanting to cry. Liam is napping or else I would have done a yucky song and dance in the kitchen. Instead I quietly gagged and my face quivered for at least a minute afterward. Well, I haven’t coughed in five minutes so maybe it’s working.

I put the nasal strip on wrong at first because this part of the directions confused me: “Make sure that the nasal strip spring is tangent to the top of the nasal flare.” Once I noticed the diagram it all made sense. I am not a dumb lady but I do have more phlegm lodged in my head than what’s necessary and it’s clouding my normal comprehension skills. I even had that sighing moment of relief, like, “Aahhhh!” when I did it right, like you see on the commercials. That’s the first time a commercial ever lived up to itself in real life. Thank you, nasal strips. I’m going to tell my friends about you.

I am really distracted my watching Liam sleep next to me right now. He has this adorable little shock of blond hair sticking up, off center, right on top of his head, and it’s glowing in the indirect noontime light. Both of his hands are tucked behind his head and the giraffe on his onesie is rising and falling with each deep belly-breath.

He takes my breath away every time.

Right now I am really missing him. He’s right next to me but I can’t nuzzle and cuddle and kiss him like I normally do because I don’t want to give him what I have. As soon as I feel better he’ll eat up the attention from me at first but I’ll be making up for lost time and he’ll end up trying to push me away. “Enough kisses! I get it! You love me!”