Since becoming a mother, I've had my fair share of sick days. Usually, those sick days were spent taking care of someone else. Even if I caught the same bug, there was no rest for me. The family still needed to eat, the dishes in the sink still needed to be cleaned, and a certain little boy who played in the mud still needed to be bathed. Sick days were for the weak.
Of course, as soon as you tell the universe that you can handle being sick then the universe has to open a big of can of whoop ass and whoop your ass. Lesson learned, oh powerful universe. Now please go bug someone else.
I spent the majority of this past weekend on the couch. Moaning, complaining, and coughing. The fever made my body ache. The sinus infection made my head hurt. Going through an entire box of tissues in 4 hours left my nose red and raw. Having to make my own chicken noodle soup added insult to injury.
Darius, on the other hand, was thrilled to have a sick momma. He got to watch more than his fair share of TV. I didn't make him pick up his room or make his bed. And he had plenty of unsupervised time to decorate with the toilet and sink with an entire tube of toothpaste. It was a pain to clean-up but the toilet has never smelled so minty fresh.
I guess I should be glad that one room in this house is clean.
And cavity-free.
