Incessant

They were here when I got home yesterday.

I smiled as Smallest One rounded the corner and rushed toward me, arms outstretched as I scooped her up.

"Hi," I smiled at her, dipping my cheek to press to her crown as she buried her face in my neck. "How are you?"

Little One followed soon after, both of them beautiful and bright in the afternoon sunshine. Mom was sick, Dad grumpy, and my head continued to ache even as I swallowed more pills and listened attentively to their stories.

"I threw up on Wednesday," I told Mom. "Over and over in the hotel room. I just got underneath a migraine and couldn't escape - searing pain and sickness were just constant for 5 hours. I still feel the pressure, but the pain is under control now."

I made it back home with no real delays on Thursday, moving swiftly through the Charlotte airport to make my connection. I returned to several Urgent voice mails, blinking back exhaustion as I dealt with them.

I went to work on Friday, marching determinedly to meetings, making and taking phone calls and frantically typing email to try to catch up. It felt like two new problems arose from each one I solved and I laid my head down for a moment to try to catch my breath and prioritize. I needed the weekend to rest and take care of some urgent but non-priority projects.

Instead, I've played Hide and Seek. I've tried to nap through the worst of the headaches. I've told Mom to stop taking the damn antibiotic since it seems to make her pretty desperately ill. I shrugged and ate Valentine's chocolate instead of indicating it would keep both girls from napping today.

"I take bath," Smallest One insists, giving an utterly adorable grin. "In Aunt Katie's big bathtub." Too charmed to resist, we're at 3 baths and counting in about 24 hours. She's already making noises about the next one.

Tomorrow we go to the water park, obeying Mom's reservation for the last of the Valentine's Day gifts. Instead of sleeping in and working by the fire, I'll put on a swimsuit and chase small bodies around pools and slides. Which is lovely, I know - they're delightful and smart and I love them very much.

But I'm ready for this - 'this' having any definition - to be over.