Mommies Don't Get Sick Days

I am feeling yucky today. I have a cold, which I think makes either number 3 or 4 since moving and I am really really tired of feeling crummy. If I was child-less and still working, I'd muscle through it and go to work, armed with Kleenexes and cough drops, then collapse on the couch when I got home and have my husband spoon-feed me chicken soup. Or, if I was really sick, I'd just take a sick day and sleep all day. But I have kids and it doesn't work like that.

Rule Number 3 of the "Mommy Handbook" says that mommies don't get sick days (Rules 1 and 2 are, "You will be barfed, sneezed, bled, drooled and coughed on. Get used to it," and "Mommies are not guaranteed uninterrupted sleep," respectively). And while I read the "Mommy Handbook" before embarking on motherhood, that doesn't mean I don't get to complain about the rules. Yes, being sick is one of the worst things about motherhood, except potty-training. Potty training is definitely the worst thing I've had to do so far, but being sick is up there too.

If my children were empathetic, being sick wouldn't be so bad, but they're not. Logan doesn't care that I feel gross. He still wants to eat weird stuff off the floor and whack his head on things. In fact it seems that he's the opposite of empathetic because he gets himself into more trouble when I'm sick. Katherine, on the other hand, understands that I'm not feeling my finest and we're not going to Disneyland or the zoo or Paris (thank you Fancy Nancy for that one) today. She also knows not to bother me unless it's important, but you would be surprised to learn what sorts of things she considers "important." There have been multiple emergency sash retyings on her dress-up dress, as well as narrowly averted Barbie wardrobe disasters.

My one shining star in this is my sweet husband who tries his very best to alleviate my suffering. He makes dinner, herds the children and puts them to bed. But unfortunately he's only around for about 2 1/2 of our kids' waking hours.

But perhaps the worst part of all is knowing that despite my nearly constant hand-washing, elbow-sneezing and Lysol-spraying, everyone else is going to get this thing. And then, I will be taking care of sick people, which runs me back into Rules 1 and 2 in the "Mommy Handbook."

In the Cirrrrrrrrrcllllllllllllllle, the ciiiirrrlllllle of liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiife!