The case for walking

"Why don't you run an errand?  Grab us some [of our new favorite beers]?  Just get a walk?" my husband suggested.



Bug and Squish were both yelling, howling, and almost screaming from their rooms.  Squish's cries are still wordless but have matured past the baby-baby stage -- which means simply that when he cries, he sounds sad.  Bug has words, and he uses them.  If we were to create a "word cloud" based on this evening's protests, the word "Momma" would be the biggest.  In fact, every 2 - 3 minutes, Bug yelled, "Momma!" in some kind of awful scream-yell hybrid.

Earlier in the day, when Bug woke up from his nap, his on-again-off-again fever (which I nicknamed The Boo Radley Fever of 2012 several days ago) seemed to have broken.  He woke up sweaty and unhappy, but seemed fever-free for the rest of the evening.

So, he went to bed in his own Big Boy Bed.  A difficult reunion for my dear Bug, who has spent the past several days and nights snuggled up with me in recovery mode. 

Hence the protest. 

Hence the suggestion that I get some fresh air.

I resisted the walk for about ten minutes while I was mired in the struggle between knowing Bug needs to stay in his own bed and wanting to put a fork in my abdomen if I had to hear another second of the protest.

Then I left. 

Cool, fresh air and a ten-minute walk (in the world on my own!) helped restore equilibrium the way nothing else could. 

When I got back, the apartment was quiet, and all of four of us were breathing easier.