Cold: Being and Having A

Earlier this week, our furnace quit working. I'd like to think that with the Spring Equinox just a few days away, things would start feeling a little warmer, but it snowed (briefly) on Tuesday. Heating the house is still very non-optional.

I spent a few days being very thankful for space heaters, furry boots, afghans, and a child who claims he is never, ever cold. The furnace is now up and working again, and currently sitting at the top of my list of Things I Vow Not to Take For Granted.

Also on that list? A partner who can stay home when I'm sick.

Having a cold while pregnant is ridiculous. All of the suggested "remedies"—sleep with your head elevated, drink lots of clear liquids, take a warm shower—are things you were probably going to to anyway. And not wanting to eat anything is suddenly accompanied by guilt to the tune of "You're starving your baby!"

Rob has made sure that my tea mug is always full, and that when I do show some interest in food (miso soup with mushrooms, please) it's in front of me in a matter of minutes. He's kept Westley fed, clothed, and entertained, giving me the entire day to rest. Rob's total willingness to pick up the slack for me today reminded me of the incredible way he powered through the unpleasantness of my first trimester. I really don't know how he does it. Or why he didn't run away screaming years ago. The minute I feel even the tiniest bit better, I owe Rob about four months' worth of favors.

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