I haven’t been sick in a very long time but I’m one of those people who go big or go home with absolutely everything, including being sick. When I was pregnant, hell yes I got the H1N1 virus, because that was just the way I roll, no I couldn’t simply get the sniffles like every other mother out there, I couldn’t suffer with congestion or a simply cold, I had to have full blown Pig Flu. Still to this day I have no idea HOW I got it but I remember it being totally miserable, I can’t remember the last time I had been so sick, what I will remember fondly though is that it was the last time that I would ever be sick and actually have peace and quiet.
Fast forward to this week, I became sick, like actually sick, not just a cold, I have a bronchial infection, along with chest and sinus infection (remember I do things big and the last time I ended up with a chest infection I ended up in the hospital with a deflated lung, I didn‘t even know I was sick at the time though until the doctor quite literally asked me wtf when he looked at my x-rays.).Anyways I come home Friday feeling like crap (I know, mom’s aren’t allowed to be sick but dammit I was) and lucky me I give it to my son, so all weekend I get progressively worse as I baby my child, putting him first, missing when he was sick the first time at 6months. At 6 months old he really didn’t move so when we laid him down we slightly propped him up so he could breathe, he took his aspirator without struggle, took his Tylenol and slept all damn day. Not at 18 months old… no… instead my son ran around like a rabid honey badger getting into absolutely EVERYTHING! Of course now there was toilet paper and tissue to grab everywhere in which he shredded every piece that he got a hold of, he decided the aspirator was now a new found enemy and wasn’t going anywhere near his face, and when I tried to wipe his snotty little nose he would plunge into my chest and wipe his snot from my neck to my shoulder and back again.
Monday comes around and I’m ready to simply go out back and dig my own grave, my son is feeling better though so I’m happy. I end up at the doctors getting some wicked prescriptions, I then come home and sleep as my husband takes care of the kiddo. Later on that evening not only does my son start hacking like a seal but my husband is doing the groan protesting that he doesn’t feel well and that I brought the plague upon the house. Back to the doctor for them… its Tuesday, after battling it out with my harpy boss I give in and go to work for a few hours, I think I’m at the point where I’m more tired than sick as my son is still needing Tylenol, my husband is needing his own love and support, and here I am daydreaming about the days where I could die quietly and alone in the comforts of my own bed instead of in the living room chasing a child with Kleenex and bringing my husband coffee.