The Cough.
With a Capital C. We all have it. It is not so much a cough because you have a tickly throat, but a cough because you feel like you are going to drown in your own phlegm.
I managed to go to work today because a client had an appointment that I couldn’t miss. Tomorrow I have to go into the city for something else important – I’ve been putting it off for 11 months now! I will see how I feel in the morning and go – if I have to leave, I’ll leave.
A stayed at home with the children today – they weren’t that sick but he was. He won’t be going into work tomorrow.
I have been looking at all these gorgeous bento boxes in Flickr and thinking that I should put a bit more effort into the children’s lunches.
Of course, I didn’t need to make their lunches this morning, so I left a little note for Willow that said ‘Dear Willow, you are my favourite girl in the whole world, love Mummy.’ As I walked to the car, Dexie and Willow blew me kisses and my heart swelled.
Driving to work it occurred to me that the depth of love I feel for my children is the same as the depth of love that my Mum felt for me and my brother. Ages ago I read some trite magazine blurb by a psychic who questioned why people whose loved ones have died, need to know whether they were loved or not. I actually agreed with him. I am certain of the love that my parents had for me and I’ve never felt the need to question it or seek further answers.
Irony plus – My father died of a heart attack while lying in bed. The book he was reading at the time? Life after death. I still have it in my bookshelf, but I can’t remember the author.
