First it starts with that call, text or FaceTime request…. “Mommy, I don’t feel well, can I please come home?” Isn’t it amazing how NOT so big those britches get when they are sick?
You look at that poor little sad face and say, ooooook baby, I’ll come get you from Dads. Because honestly you would, you would do anything for that munchin.
Before you walk out the door, you double check the calendar, one, two, three… Ok so by Tuesday night you’ll be sick. Then the wait, you do what you can, double doses of vitamin C, get an account of every step of this virus about to take you down. “How do you feel today, honey?”
But you wait…. And wait.
Then it’s Wednesday, you think, did I do it? Did I somehow miraculously avoid this deadly germ? “Yes!” You scream a cheer of victory in your head.
Then Thursday morning, you wake up, uh-oh…..that throat clearing thing… Ehhhehhhehhh. Oh shit! “No! You are not going down, you are fine” you tell yourself. You go to work, swearing the distraction will keep your mind off of it but no. With each swallow, just as she described, your throat starts to hurts. Nails have grown in your esophagus. Hour by hour you feel your body giving up the fight. But you can’t go home. You can’t crawl into bed, the cleaning lady is there.
You’ve been there while she’s been there doing her thing, you know you can’t get any rest and you very well may not even have sheets on your bed yet… So you wait.
That night is torture, tossing and turning while sucking down a bag of lozenges just to get a moment of relief from the throat. “No,” you still try to tell yourself, I’m just going to stay home today, I just need some sleep. So you do, you take the munchies to school in your jammies dropping them off at one school them the next. You get home and say I’m just gonna take a little nap here on the couch. When you wake up it’s been 4 hours. It’s ok, not so bad. A little sniffly, nothing big. I got this!
4:30am! YEP here I am at 4:30am Saturday morning. Vicks Vapor Rub, please help me now!
I am sick!
But you forget…. this is MY life…. I get sick just in time to run out of toilet paper, run out of Kleenex, run out of cough drops and even chicken broth, DAMN. Then realize, I have to take her to her make up gymnastics lesson, because Monday, SHE was sick. Oh and of course let’s not forget to rub in the “you promised we could go to the library to find a book for my school report,” that plays over and over into my guilt ridden head. Voice clinic for the free rock band at school too. All the while all I see is her from last night cartwheeling around the living room while chanting “Mama, I feel great, look!”
Well baby girl, that makes one of us!