It is hard to feel happy while I cannot do most of the things that bring me happiness. I am so sick, and I have been sick for over a week now. I gave Ender dry cereal for breakfast yesterday, and I didn't move when he spilled his uneaten yogurt on the floor. The mess is still there. I let him watch movie after movie after movie, pausing only sometimes to say "maybe you should play LEGOs...," but never with much conviction. I nurse and change Scarlett, but I'm relieved she mostly sleeps or sits still with me while she's sick, too. We can tell she has lost some weight by the way her bracelets slide easily on her wrists; I'll be honest, that scares me. She's so tiny anyway. I feel like I am barely scraping across the minimum "requirements" of mothering. It's probably needless to say that these things chip away at me and leave me feeling like I'm being a terrible mother.
It's starting to take a heavy toll on my emotions. I cannot clean my home, play with my kids, or even do my hair without suffering extreme exhaustion and debilitating coughing attacks. My fever has been relentless, and last night was the third night I couldn't sleep for coughing. In fact, I gave up around 3am this morning and have been sitting in the recliner, shoved up against the computer. Sitting up and sitting still, my cough is less present. I have a paper trail around the house of scrunched up tissues (now digging into the toilet paper supply). Isn't that gross?
Without energy to do anything, it's really hard to feel happy. The ways I usually feel fulfilled as a wife and mother are through my activities, you know? Cooking, cleaning, playing with Scarlett, chatting with Ender, doling my affections on Michael. I'm trying so hard not to wallow in misery. I am so tired, though...so tired of being so sick. It's been too long.