That was a waste of a long weekend.

I went to see my doctor Friday afternoon, just to be sure that the tingle in the back of my throat wasn't strep. It wasn't, he said. Probably something viral.

Saturday, my throat was sore, and I sort of doubted him. But Saturday night we went down to my parents' to have dinner with them and my Uncle John and Aunt Laura, who were down for a short visit. Penny was shy but cute, so it was a pretty good evening.

Sunday, my throat hurt more. But we had a pretty good morning.

We went to the grocery store, and out of nowhere, Penny launched into a monologue: "I don't like carrots. I don't like celery. I don't like hot dogs. I don't like chicken. I don't like cart. I don't like Daddy. I don't like Mommy. I don't like Gramma. I don't like Gran'pa. I don't like Unc' John. I don't like Aunt Sam. I don't like cookies. I don't like crackers. I don't like lights. I don't like floor. I don't like ceiling." It went on for like five minutes, all delivered in this perfectly calm, rational tone, as she insisted she didn't like anything she thought of or saw. Matt and I were practically rolling on the floor, laughing.

After we'd put the groceries away, we packed up Penny and took her down to John and Sam's for a family brunch. Despite it running right across her nap, Penny was pretty good. But we figured we shouldn't push our luck, so we left not long after eating. Matt offered to take Penny home by himself so I could spend some time with my family, but I was feeling a pretty dire need for a nap, myself.

When I woke up from my nap, I did not feel better. I did, in fact, feel worse. Nauseous sort of worse. After a couple of hours of attempting to remain vertical, I went back to bed. I wasn't tired, but the nausea wasn't as bad if I was lying down. I stared at the ceiling and dozed and listened to Matt and Penny doing evening things.

Penny was tired and fussy as Matt was putting her to bed, and when she begged for me, Matt told her, "Mommy's not feeling good. Mommy's tummy hurts."

She snapped to attention. "Mommy tummy hurt? Penny kiss it?"

Awwww. How do you refuse that? So Matt brought her into the bedroom and I held her on my lap for a bit, and she kissed my stomach to make it feel better, and then she let us put her to bed.

And hey, maybe it did some good; shortly after she went to bed, I finally divested myself of everything I'd eaten all day, and after that I actually felt quite a bit better.

Monday I was still not feeling too chipper -- not nauseous anymore, thank heavens, but generally just low-energy and not wanting to move any more than necessary. No appetite, either. I ate half a bagel for breakfast, and a small apple for lunch. (I wouldn't have had the apple, either, except Penny asked for it, took about four bites, and then left it.) By dinnertime, I was starting to get hungry, but still feeling a bit leery of anything with fat or sugar in it, so I made rice and kidney beans.

Naturally, I'm feeling much better now that it's time to go back to work. My throat's still a bit raw, but otherwise I'm fine. I toyed with the idea of calling in sick anyway, but then I figured that I'm already taking a lot of time off this summer. And anyway, if I'm going to take a day off, it might as well be a day I want to take off, where I'm healthy and able to enjoy it, right?

Penny was awfully cute all weekend, though, which was nice. She was also really in quite the singing mood. At least for her. Sunday night, in the bath, I listened to her singing all five rounds of "Where is Thumbkin?" and then she and Matt together sang several verses of "Old McDonald."

Then, Monday morning, out of nowhere, she started to sing a song about some monkeys taunting an alligator that she'd obviously learned at school, because neither Matt nor I knew it. Luckily, her speaking is clear enough now that we were able to google for the gaps in the lyrics. Her confidential whisper as the alligator creeps up, followed by a gleeful "SNAP!" was hysterically funny to watch.

Something to keep a smile on my face as I muddle though the workday, I guess.

--Liz