Yea me either.
I sound more bad-ass when I say that I’ve been working myself too hard at the gym and all of a sudden crashed and burned yesterday. But I’m pretty sure I had that 24-hour bug going around too. Both of them together? Miserable.
I did the tired-ugly-cry-whimper-please-hold-me dance and song about 8 o’clock last night to Aaron. Then he walked to the store for toilet paper, sprite and more tylenol.
I feel a bit better after showering this morning but my shoulders are killing me. The aches. I want a massage but I’d cry through the whole thing and when did I become such a wimp?
Laying on the couch last night trying to get comfortable (which was impossible) I decided in my head that I’m totally glad I had epidurals for my births. And how like 50 years ago they weren’t even invented yet and oh-my-god I would have only had one child ever. Maybe.
I used to have pain tolerance. And I used to feel guilty for not “manning it up” in the delivery room and suffering through contractions til the bitter end. I felt enough, even with the epidural (and hey! welcome to the recollection of my births!!!) and all that honestly matters in the end is I gave birth to healthy kids.
Because a stupid 24 hour flu bug and sore muscles rendered me incapable of non-centric thoughts about how awful I was feeling.
Also? Please see: I have the best husband in the world.
Tomorrow, I’ve got more food for you to make. Drool over. Look at. Today, my plan is to step foot outside and breathe.