I'm sick. I've got a horrible chest cold that feels like fiery explosions in my chest every time I cough. Explosions that fling shrapnel into the fleshy insides of my lungs. Not fun. It should be illegal to get sick on the eve of your anniversary, don't you think? Ben and I dropped off the kids with their aunt and uncle anyway and headed up to Salt Lake for a delicious dinner, some shopping, and a movie. On the way home we stopped by the drugstore so I could stock up on some Vicks, Sudafed, and saline spray. Romantic, no? Today my evening of "reckless abandon" is giving me the gift of hoarseness, sore muscles from head to toe, and an extremely clouded mind (ergo this post probably makes no sense). I've been forcing glasses of Airborne down my family's throats. And I've been drinking my fair share of tea, hot lemon juice with honey, orange juice and just plain water. Also the t.v. has been on pretty much all day. Dora, Diego, and lots of Disney. Although 'Map' is starting to wear thin on my patience and so I think the play-dough is soon to be making an appearance at the kitchen table.
Ben and I have successfully navigated our way through 7 years of marriage. We have 3 beautiful, healthy, exuberant children. We have a cozy, comfortable home. We're still in love. And so, even though today I feel like wrapping myself up cocoon style in a thick, heavy quilt and jamming three sets of ear plugs in my ears, I have to say that my life is pretty sweet. Sweet and mentholated...but mostly sweet. Except for that hint of yucky that is wafting from the general direction of Oscar's pants (and actually it must be more than a hint because I can smell it through the Vicks). So I'm off to correct that.
Happy Anniversary, Ben. I love you.