When your baby has a fever, time stands still. Since Wednesday afternoon Poet has been unwell, her eyes heavy and sad. She has had an on-again-off-again fever, general malaise and inconsolable misery. Just when I think she's improving she calls for me again, cuddles in and feeds for comfort and nourishment.
I've been reading a lot about autumn, the season when our immune system struggles the most. Whilst I worry about the kids when they're sick I'm constantly reminding myself that they need to be unwell, every so often, to strengthen their immune system, to build resilience against the bugs of winter. Over the past few days, in between feeding Poet and writing stories (not the prettiest attempt at life/work balance) I've been jotting down recipes for immune strengthening and respiratory cleansing. I hear it's going to be a bad flu season so I'm preparing myself and hoping for the best.
Right now Poet is sleeping soundly, her belly full of roast chicken, roast garlic, cucumber and capsicum (I was so delighted when she ate dinner!). I'm hoping that tomorrow she wakes a little happier and healthier because there will be croissants to eat and birthday wishes to be made. Tomorrow I turn 29. I'd like autumn sunshine, a nice cup of coffee and no sneezing, please.
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