Sunday, February 8, 2015
My Poor Firefighter
It wasn't the hamburger that got me after all, it was some kind of illness. That same night, without telling me, Sissy was also throwing up. I didn't find out until the end of the next day. You see, it was her first time being sick since being adopted and she didn't know a child is supposed to tell their mommy they are sick. We've talked about it before, but she just didn't relate it to herself.
Today I received an email from My Firefighter, the subject, My Turn. He started throwing up this afternoon.
Poor thing! He'd come over to help me out Thursday morning and, since I thought it was the hamburger and not illness, I let him hug and kiss me. He also tended to Sissy, who was, by then, showing signs of not feeling well even though she still hadn't said she'd been throwing up during the night. What a trouper he was, tending to me, tending to Sissy, he even fed my 8 cats. I've not been that well-cared for since childhood!
Then, the next morning, he came over early and helped me make a double batch of catfood. With his help, I made a double batch in the same amount of time it took to make a single batch by myself. Then he watched the older three girls while I took Apple to speech therapy. We were back in 40 minutes and the place had the most delicious smell. He'd made them banana pancakes and had started their reading aloud time. He'd even saved pancakes for Apple and me!
I'm so sorry he's ill because of us. He's even going to miss work tomorrow because of it.
UPDATE: He didn't miss work, but was able to have an easy day (only one medical aid call) and even managed to have a nap.