Yes, that time of year has hit our household, as is the case for so many families, and when this time of year rolls around, who suffers most?
The mom. That's right, I said it. You can belly ache and whine and complain about your chills or your 103 degree fever, or the fact that you are physically incapable of swallowing, or even that the 7 inch scar down the center of your chest is sore,but do not even try to convince me that you suffer worse than your caretaker.
Take my mom, for instance. There she is, all 57 years of her, struggling day in and day out to appease her bellowing man-child as he recovers from open heart surgery, fetching him this and that, getting up (and in most cases staying up) with him at all hours of the night, and how does he repay her? By making her watch hours on end of the hunting channel.
"I can't take it anymore, Amy," she whimpered over the phone yesterday. "All day long, there we are, just staring at men in cammo, sitting in trees whispering and pointing and counting antler points -- I need help!"
How I feel her pain. Ryan stayed home sick on Monday with a fever. A fever and NOTHING ELSE. A little runny nose, yes, and a slightly hacking cough, but other than the fact that the thermometer read 100.2 degrees, she was fine. Nevertheless, she and Jax and I pulled out the couch bed, geared up the tv, sat, slept and rendered ourselves sloth-like for the entire day. Out went my Spin class, my goal of cleaning and mopping the living room floor, and any desire to be productive whatsoever.
There was no reprieve for the weary yesterday, either, as Shawn came home mid-day with a raging case of fever and chills, sending him to bed and me to the computer to cancel a Habitat meeting scheduled for that night at our house.
Then it was on to trying desperately to keep the kiddos quiet, pulling out the couch bed and watching more tv. Dinner was microwaveable, no one had a bath, and mommy slept on the horribly uncomfortable couch bed. Slept is probably not the right word. Toss and Turn? Yes.
4:30 hit and Ry joined me downstairs, refusing the cough drops I fervently pushed towards her in an attempt to salvage the night. Finally, around 5:30 we fell asleep until Jax started his morning call for "Mommy!" at 6:20.
And now Shawn is upstairs, sleeping while the Penicillin shot hopefully gets rid of the Strep, Ry is at school, undoubtedly sniffling and hacking and spreading all kinds of yummy germs, and Jax is being loud. I've actually managed to clean the downstairs, take a shower, and write this, and next we're off to Subway for lunch and the store for some Emergen-C, cause if Mama gets sick, we're all screwed.
Am I right ladies??
**There has been one highlight to all of this, though. In preparation for Daddy's Day of Rest, I explained to the kids that he was feeling yucky and had chills, so we needed to try to be as quiet as possible.
The quiet part never really sunk in, though Jax has been continuously asking Shawn, "You got Chili's Dad? Chili's? You got Chili's Dad? Chili's?"