I am sick. I actually forked over the $20 copay and went to the dr because I was certain I had caught a rare strain of bubonic plague or that wicked Asian bird flu everyone keeps talking about. I kept checking on the way there to be sure I hadn't lost any appendages to leprosy, but in the end, the dr diagnosed me with (anti-climatic drum roll please)...the flu.
Now I pride myself on not being a skirt. But this is awful. Chills, achiness, fever off and on, sore throat. And it is very hard to fulfill your motherly duties when you feel like you are continually being run over by a freight train while being sat on by a sumo wrestler as a sword scrapes your throat. Let's just say that today the boys watched too much TV, and if you are thinking of nominating me for "Mom of the Year 2007", well, I would hold onto that nomination form until one of my better days rolls around.
I hate feeling sick, and I sure hate days where I feel like a bad mom. I got to thinking today about when I was a little girl. I can't honestly say I remember my mom being sick. I can't even remember the possibility that a mom could get sick even crossing my mind as a child. Now I am sure at some point my mom had a fever or chills or a sore throat, but I don't ever remember her laying on the couch or taking an aspirin for that matter.
So instead of nominating me for Mom of the Year, maybe we should all submit the names of all those women we've watched who feel like crap and keep going anyway. There are a million of them out there, and with achy joints I salute them all. For that matter, maybe we should submit the names of all those dads too who step in and help (albeit in their own...um..."unique" ways) when mom is down and out. As I type, my dear husband has two boys who have been cooped up in front of a TV too much today at a crowded Walmart getting me chicken noodle soup. Now THAT deserves a nomination.
I am off to take two aspirin and blog you in the morning. Be sure to wash your hands really well tonight. There are germs out there.