WAIT. I’m sorry…I was just daydreaming. Let me start from the beginning and tell you about my sick day as the stay-home-mother of three young kids:
I started feeling a little funny last night. My throat tickled and my glands felt a little swollen. I wasn’t surprised to be feeling this way, after all Cooper (almost 8 months) and Kate (three and half) had been wiping their noses on me and coughing directly into my face for two days. There’s nothing quite like the gross-out factor of holding your sick child who needs extra love and attention, only to have her cough directly into your open mouth while you’re talking. It’s the fast-track to the flu–all the hand-sanitizer in the world can’t protect you from that. I was hoping that being exposed to these germs so directly would just give my immune system a big boost—I’d have antibodies to spare once the real cold and flu season hit–but no, I had to go and get sick.
Now, just because I was feeling run-down and on the verge of either beating or acquiring a massive head-cold, I knew I was not entitled to a full night’s sleep. In fact, since two of my three children were sick, I knew there was no way that would happen. I spent the night tossing and turning with Cooper who was having a hard time nursing due to a stuffy nose. I even got up to suction it out and risked waking the girls with his loud screams of protest. If I had a stuffy nose that I had no way of clearing myself, I would love it if someone volunteered to shoot a little saline up there and clear it out with a blue bulb syringe. But not Cooper. Oh no.
The next day I woke with a pounding headache and packed sinuses. One of my ears was plugged and every time anyone talked, including me, a voice echoed back into my left eardrum like a bum cell phone. My three charges had very little sympathy for my condition, in fact, they seemed not to notice my croaking voice and trumpeting nose blowing as they called out request after request—“Can I have milk? Can you put a show on? I need help on the potty. She’s not sharing!”
I groaned and looked at my husband, who backed away from me slowly and steadily like one who has encountered a rabid bear, never losing eye contact and saying “Don’t come any closer to me with those germs.” He gave me a pat on the back, heartlessly saying “Good luck!” and practically running out the door.
How would the rest of my day pan out? Stay tuned for Part 2. Achoo!