I’m sick. My eyes are puffed up like I was bitten by spiders and leaking venom, though the neighbors politely claim that I "just look a little tired." How sleep deprived do I usually look, I wonder?

Before I was a Mommy, I didn’t understand how people could do stuff like continue to mommy while enveloped by that bone-aching, skin-stinging kind of fluish virus. People said things like, "you just do because you have to,"  adding nothing to my comprehension.

I am now relieved to know that this doing-out-of-necessity isn’t some adrenaline-fueled superpower, although I know it would be if the little one were in danger. This is what it looks like:

I sit on couch. Hold baby. Move as little as possible. Weigh need to watch mindless tv with baby’s need not to watch tv. Try to rattle rattley toys in front of him. Grunt. Wonder if his language development is being stunted by my lack of speech. Put baby on floor. hold him sitting up between my calves. Shovel pile of toys in front of him. Hope he is amused.
When he’s hungry, nurse while lying on the couch, hope he falls asleep. Hold him lying next to me and hope he stays asleep.

I forgot the best part because I was so out of it. Yesterday morning, Peter put the baby next to me in bed to nurse, and sometimes he naps a little extra in the morning that way. Noooooo not yesterday, the day I couldn’t see straight. He was aWAKE. He wanted to PLAY. No part of my being was ready for that. I found the minimum that satisfied him: I sat him up next to me and held him there. I think I drifted in and out of sleep while he sat there. I’m not really sure. He did seem to still be sitting there, held in place by these appendages that appeared to be attached to my body.

The doctor says to let her know if my eyes (and Peter’s too) are still puffed up like animals with puffy-sticky-out-eyes next week. Great. Given that I’m typing this post, you know it’s not quite as bad as yesterday. And the little one even tried out a new food today, so all is well in the universe. Squash! A big hit!