Roaming the halls of our home throughout the hours of darkness and tending to the cries of our babies as they take turns calling my name. The Florence Nightingale of mothers, if you will.
The Lady With the Lamp, also known as, the woman who has the advantage of a light switch. Modern day conveniences and all
Lo! in that house of misery A lady with a lamp I see Pass through the glimmering gloom, And flit from room to room.
Florence and I? We’re totally kindred spirits.
I know, it’s not EXACTLY a house of misery, but when it’s four am and none of us have slept yet? It feels pretty damn miserable to me.
And I realize that I’m not exactly taking care of wounded soldiers, BUT I AM nuturing and caring for a wounded soldier’s children. I think that Florence girl would be all over that. We are so the same.
I suppose I should tell you that Rob is fine and is currently recovering in the hospital right now. He wouldn’t tell you that he’s fine, because it sounds like he’s pretty certain that he may keel over and die. But the doctor’s tell him that he will be fine.
He was hurt in the line of duty a couple of days ago, not shot, although I think he would have prefered that. He has a horrible case of food poisoning and has lost eight pounds in two days. They finally clued in that there may be a problem and hooked him up to an IV, which has so far pumped four litres of fluids into him.
I wish that there was a kindred spirit to my girl Florence over in Afghanistan, as it doesn’t sound like Rob’s getting the most excellent of care. I suppose, if there was, I may have something to worry about.
Because we Nightingale chickas? We are hot as hell.
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