I didn’t get sick all winter.
All. Stinkin’. Cold. Winter.
I even dodged a stomach virus that attacked the rest of my family.
So, leave it to me to get some nasty sinus thingamabob this week, which kept me from enjoying the tiny glimmers of sunlight and warmth we had between the wind and rain.
As is the case with most people, I am not a pillar of patience when under the weather. I work from home, so I still managed to clock into the office, but while my job usually leaves me so energized that I can also attend to the family at night, the past few days have seen me crawling in bed by 8:00 – wiped out.
In between blowing my nose, intermittent hacking, neti pots, and steaming my sinuses, I have noted the interesting statements my children have directed at their sick mother. I keep track. It’s entertaining.
On what mom does for a living:
“Mom, go to bed. You don’t need to write that article. If they aren’t paying you, don’t do it.”
“Kid, it IS part of my job. I AM paid as a writer.”
“Oh! You are? I thought you just talk to people on line all day long.”
Then there was my daughter, who while hanging with a friend shared, “Mom, you should go lay down. ‘Cause whenever you are sick, you usually just yell at us to shut-up.”
(There may be some truth to that.)
How shocked was I to wander downstairs to find the surprise a dog had left me on one of our living room chairs. No one seemed to noticed the puke. Or the SECOND PILE ON ANOTHER CHAIR! Two dogs. Two chairs. Two pukes. No one noticed. Apparently, the only one with two eyes is Mom.
Thanks, and good night!
Frankly, they want me to quarantine myself in the bedroom because they know that with Mom out of the way there will be more trips to the froyo shop (they best get some for me), a latte or two, the possibility of Dad picking up food that has been banned from this house for years, and no kidding, I think all three of them have fallen asleep on the couch every night since Tuesday. I’ve not been there to march them all, husband included, upstairs.
As annoyed as I could get, I just don’t have it in me. Times like these call for Mama’s iron grip to be loosened.
They are clothed. (I mean, I don’t think they wore those outfits yesterday).
They are fed. (Nothing like a nice hoagie roll with a slice of American cheese to satisfy one’s hunger for dinner.)
And, all kidding aside, they are being kind to me. My son brings me tea. My daughter gets this nurturing voice and holds my hand. My husband does a ton around here.
And today was the day our cleaning lady came.
She wins the grand prize.
So, I guess all is well in our house.
Although I’m not going downstairs to check.
What happens in your house when Mom gets sick and is down for the count?
