This uncharacteristically brief blog post is brought to you by the migraine headache I had until sundown today (I call them "vampire headaches" for that reason; luckily, they're pretty rare).
Love is having the kind of children who understand when mom has to go back to bed with a headache like this one--and who bring her two kitchen towels full of ice, one for her forehead, one for her neck.
Love is when those same children refill the ice in those towels a little later, pretty well using up all the ice in our non-icemaker home.
Love is when those children are really apologetic a little after that because they have the unpleasant duty of informing you that the fire ants who are no longer content with owning our yard and are trying to annex the house have shown up again, this time in the younger girls' bedroom closet.
Love is when you call your DH to explain the situation and he doesn't even wait for you to ask if he can come home before he says that though he can't leave right that second, he'll call you as soon as he can.
Love is when he calls you five minutes later to let you know he's leaving work.
Love is when he calls a bit after that to ask DD #1 if they need him to bring anything home for lunch.
Love is when he arrives, comes in to ask how you're feeling, and asks if you need anything. "How about some more ice?" he asks, seeing your deflated damp towels.
And when you say a little regretfully that more ice would be wonderful but you don't think there's any more in the house just yet...
...love is having him smile his incredibly charming smile and say nonchalantly, "Oh, I picked up a bag of ice on the way home."