I was sick on the weekend. OH WHAT A SURPRISE. Another cold — or still the same one WHO THE HELL KNOWS — and not too bad but still had that wiped out, sinus head-hurt thing going on.
So, starting Friday-ish, I was starting to feel off. And when I get sick, I get brittle. I get tired and really, REALLY cranky. I do not envy the other people in the house when I am sick. I am a bitch to live with, and absolutely unrelenting to be parented by. And thus it was, on Friday evening, when BDH proposed that he might have some things in store for us to do as a family on Saturday, I was well-prepared to basically surrender any decision-making to him.
As it turns out, he planned some fun things to do, for the benefit of our little Miss. Things she would enjoy, and we might too, but mostly her.
Saturday morning, I was tired and a bit off, but got up and had a lovely breakfast made for me, and then BDH took Stinkerbelle off to Canadian Tire for some things to give me a little time to myself to shower and get myself together.
Once they returned, he had planned for us all to go to the movies, and so we three packed up and headed to the north end to catch “Hotel Transylvania”. Not something in my wheelhouse, necessarily, but it was not for my benefit. Also, for BDH to plan something of this nature shows how much he wanted to entertain That Girl, for going to a theatre (at great expense, movies don’t come cheap these days) overrun with the obnoxious under-10 set is most definitely not BDH’s idea of A Good Time. And yet, despite the expense and the chair-kicking from the little princess sitting in the row behind him, he put on a calm demeanor and we all ended up enjoying the movie. It was quite sweet bytimes, but more importantly, Stinkerbelle sat in rapt attention, eyes like saucers, for the entire movie and snarfed popcorn like there was no tomorrow.
After the movie, BDH proposed we stop in at our favourite country market, also known to loyal readers as “Corn Parking” (or, as Stinkerbelle mispronounces it, “Porn Parking”.) Last Saturday was, at various farms and farm markets and ag centres about the region, the annual fall “Rural Romp“, where you could go and enjoy various activities and opportunities to visit farms and learn where your local produce comes from.
Corn Parking had various events on the go, and was crawling with people, but we stopped in so Stinkerbelle could wander amongst the pumpkins fresh in from the pumpkin patch. The weather was warmish, fine but overcast. So when the owners let us know that there was a free wagon ride for the littles out to the pumpkin patch to pick their own pumpkin, BDH gallantly volunteered to take That Girl out to ride the horse-pulled wagon. She was ELATED.
And then it began to rain.
Still, BDH soldiered on, running back to the car for an umbrella and sitting on the wagon, where others’ umbrellas rained streams of cold water on him, and went out to the muddy patch to pick out a little pumpkin with his Little Pumpkin. And then back again. All while I sat, warm and congested, in the car in the parking lot.
Both he and Stinkerbelle were drenched and muddy when they returned. But he did not complain, not a bit. And she was OVERJOYED. She had a fantastic time.
The next day, Sunday, was the low point of my cold. BDH ordered me to stay in bed, or at least to return to it once I had gotten Stinkerbelle breakfast, and I slept and kept warm while he took care of her the majority of the day, including taking her out to soccer practice.
And suppers were whatever’s-in-the-freezer affairs, brought by BDH upstairs to us in the comfort of our TV room, where I could sit and knit and recuperate before tackling the kid-care duties during the work week.
And so, today, I am feeling mostly well, and Stinkerbelle went proudly to school today with two tiny pumpkins to add to the class Science and Nature Table, and full of stories about her weekend to tell any adult or classmate who would stand still long enough and listen.
And all because we are lucky enough to have a lovely and considerate husband and father that dotes on us. (And it’s not even a birthday or holiday or special occasion.)