A look inside my head
Yes, it’s cold and flu season once again. So far I have been fairly lucky. I have taught very young children for most of my career. By November, I have usually been sneezed on, coughed on, and vomited on a plethora of times. I am typically on my third or fourth cold by the time parent-teacher conferences roll around. However, this year I am working with older students. Who knew? They keep their germs to themselves for the most part. I was feeling fairly cocky as I watched my colleagues in the lower el wing succumb one by one to viruses.
And then, Monkey Boy returned home from college. Bringing with him several bags of laundry and a nasty cold. Oh yes, he gave me that big, big hug that I asked for. That I had been longing for these last two months since he left.
And. Now. I’m. Sick.
Hubby is sick too. Actually, he started it. I blame him, not my wonderful baby boy.
I remember when the kids were young. One of them would get some kind of disease and it would spread like wildfire through the house. All of us would eventually become ill. As good parents, however, we soldiered on despite our own aches, sniffles, and chills. We had a mission…to take care of “the babies”. Nothing could interfere with this most sacred of duties. No matter how sick we each became, we still acted as responsible adults. We dragged our sorry behinds to the store to buy Pediasure, Jell-o, popsicles, and Children’s Tylenol. We made vats of chicken soup for our poor sick darlings, with never a complaint.
Now the babies are gone and we are left to our own devices. Nothing is sadder than watching two sick adults arguing over who is the sickest to see who has to actually get up off the couch to get a glass of water. Or, God forbid, actually leave the house to get some medicine. “But I have a fever!” one will whine. “But I can’t even lift my head off the pillow without fainting!” the other will counter.
I drew the short straw this weekend. Hubby’s prevailing argument is that he has been sick longer, so he is clearly “the worst”. I am “just at the beginning”. Which makes perfect sense in his eyes. Hmmmm… What you need to realize is that no matter what, Hubby is always “the worst”. He has a splinter, and I have the ebola virus? He is sicker. “But it’s a really big splinter!!!” Good thing I love him so.
So I managed to shower and put on some clothes so that I looked at least semi-human and go out to procure food so that we do not starve to death while waiting for this germ to run its course.
photo credit: photo pin
Here was my original shopping list, as dictated by my hubby: Dayquil, Nyquil (“Make sure you get the kind with the alcohol in it…I need to sleep!”), cough drops, Tylenol, Vicks Vapor Rub, Kleenex. Yep, that’s it. Go.
“Um, Honey, shouldn’t I get some food too?” Yes, he decided, food was probably a good idea. Popsicles were added to the list. (I’m married to an 8-year old). “And could you make me some chicken soup? Your soup is so good!”
So, coughing and sneezing myself, I ventured forth into the wider world and purchased an obscene number of cold remedies, fixings for soup, and some big Panera smoothies. (My theory is that they are soothing for a sore throat!) And like a good mom, I made my “baby” some chicken soup.
Now, who’s going to do these dishes??????