I had the flu this weekend, and so did the rest of the family. Back in my pre-child days I would've curled up on the couch with several seasons of Beverly Hills, 90210 (original spice), never setting foot in the outside world except (maybe) to grab the newspaper. This weekend was...different. Here are my complaints.
- We never watch what I want to watch. A coughing fit woke me up at 4:00 AM on Monday. A little excited at the prospect, I thought, OK, I'll just go downstairs and fall back asleep watching Grey's Anatomy. But no. Boy Child heard me get up and followed me to the living room. So we had to watch Wild Kratts instead.
- The man-up factor. Since my husband was sicker than I was (or so he made it seem...), I became the de facto caretaker without getting much time to rest myself.
- Delusional sick head + spending too much time with the children = everyone is dying at all times. Baby Cookies seemed to be on the mend before the rest of us, but then she started getting really clingy with me and her stomach hurt when I touched it. Rather than jumping to the logical conclusion (i.e. upset stomach/gas/constipation), my mind immediately went to appendicitis and/or obstructed bowel and stayed there for the duration of Sunday.
- If the children get better before you do, they want to, like, play and stuff. All when you just want to lie in bed with your Kindle for an entire afternoon.
- The guilt. Even though you know that you and the kids need the rest, you still feel like you should be spending your time doing things more productive than "watching eleventy hours of PBS Kids" or "lying prone in the upstairs hallway."
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