242 : I'm Still Somebody's Baby

On Christmas morning, I was walking down the stairs carrying my youngest and I slipped on the carpet.  I fell down and skidded past a couple stairs.  It hurt immediately although I couldn't identify exactly where.  My parents were right there, helping me up and getting me IB Profen (which for the record, is a staple in our family).  Both of my children woke up that same morning with nasty colds.  Their noses were running constantly, and the oldest one had a horrible cough.  I knew it was only a matter of time before I too was plagued with this.  It was impossible to avoid when my 3 year old was grabbing my toothbrush, eating off my plate or drinking out of my water glass.  And sure enough, the day after Christmas I woke up even more sore from my fall and feeling a bit under the weather.  My throat was sore.  My nose, stuffy.  I had been hit just like my kids.  All I wanted to do was lay around.  But my son was in desperate need of medicine and we had just ran out.  And my car really needed an oil change before I headed back to Chicago.  I started moving slowly to get ready for the store and my mom told me my dad had already taken care of my car.  I was so thankful and relieved at the same time.  I ran to the store to get my son more medicine and then went immediately to the couch.  I apologized to my mom- I really didn't feel good, but I felt bad just laying around.  She not only wanted me to get better, she encouraged me to rest.  So I was on the couch most of the morning and napped all afternoon.  Yes, even at 37, I was still somebody's baby.  And no matter how old I was, I still needed my parents.  Perhaps I had relied on them a little more in the past year than I had in others, but I would always need them.  And I was thankful that they were still there to help take care of me.