It kinda amazes me it took this long for me to get sick again this school year. I started feeling tired and worn down yesterday and sure enough, I woke up this morning with a sore throat and achiness.

The perils of being the asthmatic mother of a school aged child: I get whatever my son comes into contact with, regardless of whether he gets it or not. (He usually doesn't, or it is more mild than my illness. His immune system is fabulous. Mine is compromised. C'est la vie.)

Soon enough, I will recover from this cold. Soon enough, he will be out of the most virulent years of school. Soon enough.

Today, I will stay in bed and take care of myself. (I'm typing this from bed, in fact: from our downstairs guest bedroom, which isn't as comfy as our bed upstairs, but which means I don't have stairs to climb every time I want a cup of tea - which is a lot, when I'm sick.) I'm  rereading Belgarath the Sorcerer (since I don't own the Belgariad/ Mallorean books) and hopefully I'll get a nap in before school gets out. I want to nip this cold in the bud, so it doesn't linger.

I'll probably end up watching all the clips of this I can, too: Night of Too Many Stars. Sometimes, even I need a reminder of how very far we've come (and we've come so far). Thanks Michelle for linking to this beautiful story that reminded me so much of my own boy's struggle and triumphs. (He'd prefer a duet with Gotye, btw. Just in case anyone at Comedy Central is reading. And he can't play the piano yet, but he's a great interpretive dancer.)

So, perspective, beautiful, beautiful perspective: I have a sore throat, but I can still get out of bed and make myself some tea. I can still read. I can still talk (I haven't lost my voice yet). I am lucky.

I am beyond lucky.