Please accept my apology for not posting in over a week.
I’ve been a bit under the weather. That tends to happen when your children are as sharing as mine. I appreciate Jordan sharing with Cameron and then Cameron sharing with me.
The problem in being sick with your kids is that no matter how horrible you feel, you’ve got to get up, make soup, check temperatures, administer meds, fix hot tea, clean bodily fluids etc. etc. All of this after a night full of kicks and elbows and a knee to the boob from the little one who can’t sleep alone when he’s ‘under the weather’. What exactly does that phrase mean anyway? Let’s not even mention the drowning sensation you’re experiencing because you can’t breathe through your nose and his arm is covering your mouth.
You’ve had a headache since the day before and you’re exhausted to the point of reneging on your “no PS3 on school nights rule” just so they can leave you alone long enough to catch some sleep. After a stern threat of bodily injury should an argument arise, you fall into a z pack induced coma. However, just as sudden as you fell, you’re awakened by a loving French kiss…from the dog. Moment ruined. Where’s the Listerine?
By the end of the night all you want is to curl up in your bed with a hot cup of coffee and some ginger snaps and marvel at the side effects of Children’s Triaminic Nighttime formula. By the way, it works during the day too. So there you are, freshly lathered in Vicks tossing the tissues from the night before onto the floor, ready to take that first sip. Horrified, you realize that you mistakenly purchased Sugar-Free French Vanilla International Delight. Moment ruined. Where’s the tea?
It’s in times such as these that you discover you are loved. In the text messages from concerned friends. In the calls from coworkers (who don’t want you sharing in the office). In the young neighbor who pulls your trash to the curb. In the brother who drops off soup and juice (even if he is covering his mouth and nose with his shirt). In the father who cooks dinner and cleans your kitchen. In the mother who offers herbal remedies. In the visit from a special friend who doesn’t care that your hair is reminiscent of Don King and your breath smells like you’ve been kissing the dog.