When Mamma’s sick you know what happens? Basically the same as every other day, you just feel awful while doing it.
I know, it’s an age old rant, but here I am, joining in it.
You know what I do for the hubs and kiddo’s when they are sick? Bring them drinks, check their fever, pick up medicines, and make them homemade chicken tortilla soup. I’ve even been known to give a back rub or two. Not to mention cleaning up after them, and tidying behind the sick person who is barely keeping their eyes open.
However, when I’m sick:
Did I still run them around to all their stuff? Yes
Did anyone come home and tend to me or clean up after me? No
Was anyone bringing mom soup in bed? NADA
I made my own Walgreen’s medicine run today and have eaten chicken noodle soup from a can for two days straight…Did you hear me??? SOUP FROM A CAN!!!!
But then again, this is what I’ve taught them all. I’v trained them that mamma handles it. Mamma keeps this house rolling. Mamma doesn’t stay down.
So today I’m just thankful that no one has ‘caught’ whatever it is I’ve gotten while I’ve been sick, because taking care of a sick kid (or husband) while your sick, is literally the WORST. I’m praying I’ve contaminated myself enough to spare the rest of the family, cause if one of them get’s it, the rest of the house is doomed. All of them are germ spreading mongrels, unable to stay contained to one space. And knowing full well that if anyone of them get’s it, they will amazingly be too weak to make it out of bed alone, and are going to need meds, bendy straws with clear liquids, and homemade soup to even consider getting well.
Today I feel slightly less like I am on the threshold of death, only to hear things like “you didn’t read Harry Potter with me last night, can we read tonight?” Or “you went straight to bed last night, can we watch our show tonight?” Basically, snap out of it and get over it mom, we need you to get back to life.
C’est la vie….and still, it’s pretty darn perfect. Because my family wants me to get back to being me. I’m a big part of their lives, and they want me back in it. What more could one mom or wife ask for? Well…maybe homemade soup, but I’ll survive.
My Outlandish Life 