I woke up this morning with another headache, big deal. But with it came a raging temperature and achy bones and an upset stomach.
Groooaannn…I am sick. I’m not supposed to get sick. It takes away Mom points and is frowned upon by the gaggle I call my children and any body else who thinks they want something from me. Being Sunday, I figure I’m probably letting down God by not going to church, except I hardly go when I am well. It’s just another reason for me to feel guilty and inadequate.
Still, all day they parade in and out of my room needing one thing or another. Waking me up and then saying I didn’t know you were asleep even though I was clearly sawing logs…big huge logs. It’s different when I take to my bed due to a bipolar episode. Then I at least can have a dialogue with them and convince them they are capable of doing it – whatever it is – by themselves. When I am sick I can only grunt and look at them bleary eyes, their expectant faces waiting for me to take care of the problem. If I blurt out “Go ask your Father!” they don’t become alarmed that I might be delirious, they just assume I am crazy.
As they continue to demand things, food, water, stuff like that, I silently seethe and think wait til you have kids of your own and you are sick.! Yeah.! I feel a little better at the thought. And honestly at least with them all here bugging the crap outta me, I know I won’t end up dying from my illness only to lay here unnoticed for a week or so. Small miracles.
My 18yo daughter has taken pity on me. Bless the child.
I am going back to sleep.