Rainbows

I am writing this whilst chuckling (well, the chuckling turns into a cough and then a sneeze) re-reading my ‘10 reasons I am grateful for my body post’ at number 5 in particular. 

‘It has an excellent immune system and I am rarely ill’ 

Maybe rarely, but when I am, I do it properly. Oh my goodness, I have felt it this week. It started with a sore throat, to which I laughed in the face of, and protested that I wasn’t sick and that people who say they are sick, will fulfil that belief. OK. Maybe my inner voice was saying it as the sore throat worked its way around my body. At the cinema with my husband that night, it was only the sheer block buster edge of your seat viewing of ‘2012’ that kept me from curling into a little ball on my flip up chair. The bike ride home in the rain (“I don’t need a taxi, I am NOT sick”) pretty much finished me off . 

The rest of the week passed in a bit of a blur with me half battling with the idea of being ill and half pretending I was fine as two energetic children do not leave you a lot of time to sit and count your Strepsils. I gave in to the doctor visit (“why would I bother going to sit in a waiting room risking getting other peoples’ bugs to be told it’s just viral and to sit it out’) and was told that it was just viral and I should sit it out.

 

By the end of the week I felt much better, I could talk, eat a little (a major highlight of my week was my thoughtful husband bringing home cookie dough ice cream – in sickness and in health he was definitely onto a winner there.) and was proud of myself for taking everything slowly, resting where possible, early nights, drying my hair and wearing a scarf around my neck (very important apparently so says my, not only thoughtful but also very patient and sensible, husband as he watches me fly out of the house with my coat open and my hair damp)

 

I picked my son up from pre -school on Friday to be met with him proudly staggering out of school with the pet carrier every parent silently dreads on a Friday. We had the pleasure of Buster, the class dog for the weekend. Each child takes it in turns to take him home and then documents what Buster does over the weekend. Each parent prays that they are not the family to lose him or break him.

 

We were due to head into London to visit Santa in Selfridges so with a quick stop at home to drop off Buster’s overnight gear and a quick belt, elastic band and dressing up scarf designed into a coat, Buster was securely fastened to my son in the hope that Buster would make it home in one piece and back to school on Monday. At this point, to avoid any RSPCA visits, I should clarify that Buster is a beanie toy.

 

Now, on Sunday night, we have spent a wonderful weekend with Buster and I have found myself very attached to him. He has been a welcome addition to our little party and I even found myself popping him in a sock today to keep him warm and making sure that he was brought outside to appreciate the incredible the rainbow we saw this afternoon. My son and daughter have demonstrated excellent paternal/maternal tendencies and I have loved watching them include him into their lives so beautifully. 

 

I was almost too wrapped up in my temporary third dependant to notice that my virus is failing to shift and I am now ploughing my way through the third set of throat sweets which promise to be the best and the strongest and the ones that will change my life. I am frustrated with having to slow down but I am trying to put into practice some of the relaxation I have been learning on my course. I have not been able to maintain any cardio since last Saturday however I have been OK for both Pilates sessions so far which I am already a ‘sing it from the rooftops’ fan of. 

 

Personally, my moment of joy and the sliver lining to this tonsillitis covered cloud comes as I open up that cookies dough tub and eat it without a shadow of guilt.