It didn’t take long for the petrie dish of elementary school
to reach my house.  School’s been
in for two weeks, and we’ve made two trips to the doctor’s office, three to the
pharmacy and missed three days of school between us.  Isaac’s cough began over a week ago and finally morphed into
an infection in both ears.  Harper
Lee was the first to fall prey to the dreaded sinus infection.  Both are now on antibiotics, not my
favorite thing in the world, and now, Rob and I are both laid low… on this
particularly beautiful Labor Day weekend. 

This was supposed to have been a weekend of long, long trail
runs, cookouts, fireworks and yard work; instead, it’s been a weekend of naps,
movies, books, movies, soup and more movies.  My house is a wreck, the living room littered with cards and
board games, wooden blocks and train sets, the laundry is mounting, and though
I can’t see them, I think there is a living, breathing layer of germs and crud
on every surface of my house.  It’s
fairly disgusting.

Still, I’ve enjoyed being cooped up just a little bit.  The kids are feeling much better and
just catching up on some much needed rest.  (There’s nothing like the beginning of a school year to
really kick your butt.)  Because
they are not very sick anymore, there is very little whining; they’re simply
hanging out and enjoying their toys and each other—for the most part.  And while I still feel like there’s so
much I need to be doing, I don’t feel very guilty about just sitting in my
favorite armchair and reading.  I
finished one book on Friday night and read another yesterday.  I caught up on reading all of the articles
in the latest issue of Sparrow Magazine. 
I read my latest issue of Trail Runner from cover to cover.  I watched Winter’s Bone, a film I’d been waiting to see since the Academy
Awards back in March, and it was excellent—the kind of movie and characters
that I’m still thinking about two days later.  In other words, I have thoroughly enjoyed my sick days. 

Given the chance, I might have avoided the ill-fated hill
workout that probably pushed this whole thing into overdrive on Friday (though,
really, if given the chance, I’d probably do the same stupid thing), and I wish
I felt better, but I also know that if I did feel good, I’d be outside with a
weedeater right now or folding laundry or serving Communion at church after
teaching Sunday School.  In other
words, I would be filling my time with stuff to do.  I wouldn’t be reading or watching movies or snuggling under
germy quilts with my kids.  I’d be
on the go, and while that’s what I want to be doing most of the time, these
times are nice too.  It’s like a
little vacation at home without the guilt.

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