What is Love? Part 2

Love is a blanket and a bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup.

Cold-Zilla has visited our house, bringing with it its bounty of misery. Luckily I'm the only one (so far - fingers crossed!) who has had the pleasure of coping. This thing has really slammed me hard, and dug its nails in for the long haul. We've gone through lots of kleenex and hand soap at my house.

When you're sick as an adult, don't you wish you were still a kid?
Remember how when you were a kid, you weren't still expected to function normally when you got sick? You didn't have to go to work, anyway? You didn't have force your way through a splitting headache to do the dishes or the laundry? And everyone felt sorry for you?
As an adult, when you get sick, don't you wish your mom would tell you to stay home from school, wrap you in a warm blanket on the couch in front of the TV, turn on your favorite show, and feed you delicious "bug-fighting foods" like homemade soup, Jell-o, and orange juice? And then she'd tossle your hair and kiss your forehead, and you'd have all these conflicting feelings about whether or not being sick is actually pretty cool?

Yesterday morning, when Bill and I awoke to the sweet squawks of a hungry Bean, I tried to reciprocate his "good morning", but it came out gravel and tar. Very un-sexy. He looked at me alarmed, and said, "Darling, I think you should stay home, today."

What? A sick day? A day to just be miserable and sick? Hot dog!

So I did. And do you know what?

Bill let me sleep all the way until 1:00pm (an hour before he had to go to school and would therefore be forced to leave me in my weakened state to guard our little princeling). He woke me with whispers and kisses, and a lunch tray for two - to share in bed! And do you know what was on that lunch tray?

Homemade chicken noodle soup.
Homemade bread.
Orange Juice.

Then he brought me downstairs and tucked me under a blanket on the couch, gave me the TV remote, admonished the bean to be good to me while he was away, and left for school.

He came home that night and even though I looked almost exactly like what our neighbor's cat dragged into our back yard and toyed with before killing (DEFINITELY un-sexy!), he still tenderly kissed my haggered face.

I'll tell you what love is.

Love is a husband who thinks you're beautiful, anyway.


Tamsin said...

That is ever so very sweet.

Oh, and thanks for the loan of Bill when Nick and I were both too sick to go to nursery on Sunday. There were wild screams aplenty as he walked in and we walked out, and I thought to myself "Thank Heavens for Bill McCrery" - which I am sure you often do too.

Jeff and Ari said...

Oh my gosh ... this is SO sweet!

Lizzie said...

My name is Lizzie McCrery and I approve this message. You two are wonderful. Your house is bursting at the seams with love.

MikkSolo said...

I can't compete with THAT! c'mon Bill!

Bill said...

what she won't tell you, is who home-made that chicken noodle soup, and bread... and neither will I. Though I will point out, I did cook the chicken.