Sick in the Summer
You know what’s unfair?
Being sick in the summer.
Kind of makes life suck. Especially when you’re the mom. Of four.
Side note: I have occasional moments when I think, “Aw, baby! Another baby wouldn’t be so bad…” Then I do the math. That’s five, people. Five kids. No way. Uh uh. Not now, anyway. Not in this house. Babies are like a gateway drug… to kids.
Anyway. Nothing like being sick to realize how needy your kids are.
They need you.
They need you to eat.
They need you to pee.
They need you to poop.
(This is fact, people. I can’t make this up.)
They need you to listen when they need to tattle.
They need you to kiss their owies.
Even when doing so is going to make them sick and miserable. You have to do it. They won’t let you not do it, so you kiss them and cringe, knowing how miserable they will make you in the coming days.
Then they need to eat again.
Which only leads to more pee.
And more poop.
All of which
they need you for.
My husband works a zillion hours a week (that’s an actual calculatable figure, people). Once he gets sick he goes down hard. And while the people at work tend to get pretty upset that he is home sick, he gets to stay home and sleep.
When I get sick, I’m still making breakfast and lunch and usually dinner. (Though Gary did do it last night, 5 points for him!) When I get sick, I still am wiping bums and holding children and all those other crappy things you do 100 times a day without thinking about it until you’re sick.
So… I’m just a wee bit sick. How are you?